


End Of An Empire

by thorkiship18



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Antichrist Sam, Attempted Murder, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Brother/Brother Incest, Brotherly Affection, Eventual Romance, Family Secrets, High School Student Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Moral Dilemmas, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Plot Twists, Protective Dean Winchester, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sam Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam Winchester's Visions, Shy Sam Winchester, Sibling Incest, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 71,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6695674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkiship18/pseuds/thorkiship18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving back home after a traumatic event from two years ago, Sam Winchester and his brother, Dean, think that the past is behind them. Sam will go back to normal school, Dean will get this job as a mechanic and everything else will be okay. </p><p>Dean only wants his brother to come out of his shell. Sam only wants to forget. Soon enough, another terrible event happens, forcing the brothers to grow even closer together. Along the way, strange and abnormal things begin happening in their town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Ran

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited for this, Guys! Don't you just love how I post things so quickly? This one has an unexpected plot twist in here somewhere...you'll see! ;)

_The dream is always the same no matter how many times he has it. Like it really matters. It doesn't. And it's not a dream. It's a memory. Sam's always naked on his back, staring at the ceiling. His arms and legs are always tied to the headboard and the foot of the bed by thick ropes. He's always crying, begging for the man that he called Dad to stop. But, as always, the man doesn't listen. He just continues to thrust up inside of him, telling Sam that everything will be okay._

_It's always a lie. When his father stops his thrusts, he collapses on top of him, breathing heavily. He himself is heavy enough to be laying his body on a Sixteen Year Old. He always gets up eventually, crying to himself as he reaches into his satchel from his job. The object is always the same, a crudely shaped knife. Sam pleads for his father to let him go, to stop this madness. As always, the man refuses to listen._

_The dream never ends there. Just as his dad raises the knife to strike him, an angel storms into the room. It's Dean, his beloved brother. Dean in all of his glory. He quickly assesses the situation before incapacitating their father. He's accidentally cut in the process. When he is positive that their father is down, Dean pries loose the bonds around Sam's limbs and carries him out into the living room on the couch, draping a blanket around his shoulders. He too cries...always..._

* * *

Sam's awoken by his smiling brother in the driver's seat of their father's old Chevy Impala. It was given to Dean on his Eighteenth birthday. That very same night, he snuck out with Sam to drive it around. They had the time of their lives. Dean even let him drive for a few minutes in an abandoned parking lot, though the session ended earlier than anticipated because Sam nearly hit a stray cat.

He's happy that Dean chose to wake him up when he did. The dream--memory is usually too graphic which causes him to thrash wildly in his sleep. It hasn't happened in a long time, but it's always better to be safe than sorry. Dean's smiling at him, but it's a nervous smile. He's nervous, they both are. They're moving back to the house where it all began. If anything, it's a curse and not a blessing.

It looks different from what Sam remembers honestly. Smaller maybe. Probably because he wasn't as tall as he was now. He's just as tall as Dean, though he still has a couple of centimeters to go before he surpasses his older brother. The house seems clean outside, probably inside as well. He knows that there's a housekeeper that comes to take care of the house and leaves.

For the past two years, Sam and Dean have lived with their "Uncle" Bobby in Sioux Falls. Though he's not their biological uncle, he's actually a long time friend of their father's. He's watched them grow since they were in diapers. They have no other family as far as they know, so Uncle Bobby is the closest that they've got. He's a crotchety old bastard, but he cares for his boys. He even taught Dean everything that an aspiring mechanic needs to know.

"You ready, Sammy?" Dean asks, taking the keys out of the ignition.

Sam shakes his head solemnly. "No. Not really. Why are we here again?"

The older Winchester sighs, smoothing back Sam's hair. "Because it's time that we did. Uncle Bobby's house was great and all, but you needed to come back here. Closure and healing and other shit."

"I don't think I'm ready to come back here. People might...they might know who I am...who our dad was."

The people of Lawrence, Kansas knew all about what happened two years ago. How local professor John Winchester got drunk one night and viciously raped his youngest son, almost stabbing him to death to top it all off. It'd be hard to forget something like that. Sam sure hasn't, so he doubts that everything else has. In fact, he's pretty sure that most of the townsfolk know that they're moving into their childhood home.

Dean kisses Sam's forehead. "It doesn't matter what they say or think. All that matters is that I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"You promise...?"

"Yeah, Baby Boy. I promise. Come on. We gotta get some stuff situated inside."

Dean gets out of the car shortly after, grabbing their bags from the trunk. Sam, however, stays behind for a while longer. His brother doesn't fault him on this as he knows him well. Sam desperately tries to push away the negative, evil emotions in his head towards his father. He was never the kind of person that was capable of hate, so where is this coming from? Eventually, he calms himself, exiting the vehicle too.

He joins Dean at the door as the older one turns the key in the lock. Home sweet home. The house is just as it was left that night. They didn't pack anything when Bobby came to collect them. They only got up and left, never turning back. Until now. It's very clean, as Sam expected. He wonders, only for a split second, if his room is just as spotless.

It'd be a huge miracle if Dean's room was cleaned. Sam remembers how it was before they left. He had to step over shit just to reach the bed. It was almost the same way at Bobby's house too, though not as bad. Sam always kept his things organized and neat; he knows where everything is or where it should be. Without saying anything else, the boys go up the stairs side by side.

When they reach the top of the stairs, Dean hands Sam his bags, faking pain because of their weight. In all actuality, they aren't that heavy at all. But Sam laughs anyway, resulting in Dean ruffling his hair. It's a major pain in the ass and it's a major comfort at the same time. He's happy that Dean's his brother. If he wasn't...then yeah.

Sam won't pretend that Dean isn't an attractive man. He won't act on it though. It's too soon for him to chase anyone and it's just wrong to do so. He sometimes pretends that he and Dean aren't brothers and that they're dating. It makes for a perfect fantasy, except that's all it is: A fantasy. Sam knows that Dean's straighter than the average American male.

Sighing, the teen turns the knob on his bedroom door. As he opens it, anxiety bubbles inside of his lower stomach. Everything is as it was, minus the sheets on his mattress and a few other things. It was in this room where John had...he had...taken away his innocence. Sam has tried so hard to avoid the word "rape". It's like a deep cut and it adds insult to injury. As he steps inside to set his bags down, Dean comes in behind him, grinning from ear to ear.

"Just like you left it, huh?" Dean chuckles, flopping on the mattress face first. He mumbles the rest, face hidden. "Isn't it awesome? I think it's fuckin awesome."

Sam ends up smiling, wandering to his old computer desk and sitting on the computer chair. He sees that his laptop still in place. "I think it might be. When do I start school?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why? I--I thought we'd wait a week or something until we got settled with the house."

Dean sits up on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that...I already signed you up. Turned in your transcripts through the mail the other day."

"I can't believe that you did that without telling me, Dean." Sam doesn't yell because he honestly doesn't have it inside of him  _to_ yell at his brother. "We agreed that we'd do it after I...after I was comfortable with it."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just thought the sooner, the better, ya know? Can you just bear with it for a while?"

"You think they'll remember me? I don't want them to."

"Maybe. Only one way to find out."

Sam hangs his head, sighing heavily. "I don't know, De..."

"You'll be fine." His brother smiles as he kneels in front of the boy. "If anyone fucks with you, just tell me, Sammy. I'll fuck with them right back. Scout's honor!"

It never fails apparently. Dean can always make Sam laugh or smile. No matter what. It has to be a talent only exclusive to him though, as no one else is capable of flipping his emotional switch like he can. Bobby is kind of an exception, even though it takes twice as long for him to get the teen to smile. He's a kind person, taking in children that aren't his own.

Finally, Sam speaks. "You were never in the Scouts."

"I could've been."

"Yeah, right. Have you even been in your room yet?"

Dean purses his lips together, hilariously jetting across hall to his own room. Sam only turns the chair around to face his desk, booting up his laptop. It works like a charm, just like it used to. He remembers his password like he made it yesterday.  _DeanLuvsPie_. It's true though. Just as he types it in, Sam hears his brother shout from the other room.

Worried, Sam jumps away from the desk, sprinting to his brother's room. When he gets there, he's just as surprised--if not more so than Dean--about the state of his bedroom. Everything thing is cleaned up. From dirty magazines to filthy underwear, everything's been picked up or thrown away, squeaky clean. Thank God too. It doesn't smell like dirty socks anymore. More like fresh linen.

"What. The Hell. Is This...?" Dean growls shakily. "Who did this? Who does shit like this?"

Sam snickers, able to finally walk to Dean's bed. "The housekeeper."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." He teases as he looks at the spot where his old magazines uses to lay. "Okay, when I see this housekeeper bitch, she's fired."

* * *

Dean ended up cooking dinner for the first time in a year. Needless to say, it was sort of a disaster. His failed attempt at cooking roast beef was just that: a failed attempt. So, instead of a home cooked meal, the brothers had Chinese take out instead. Sam wouldn't let Dean hear the end of it as they cracked open their fortune cookies.

The fortune Dean managed to get had some typical message of peace and serenity. He calls it bullshit, crumbling it up and tossing it across the room. When Sam reads his, he nearly collapses. He won't show it to his brother because he doesn't want to freak him out, even if he himself is already freaking out. Dean doesn't pry, something that they both have learned to get used to. That's his older brother, so it used be, before the incident, that he would be in his business 24/7.

When they finish eating, Dean helps Sam put his new sheets and blankets on his bed. They do this silently; Dean knows how his little brother feels about sleeping in this room. He'd offer his own, but it's  _his_ , and he's pretty damn sure that Sammy doesn't want to stay in the same room that John slept in.

That's how they treat him now. Like a disease. Like the plague. They don't speak his name or mention him entirely unless the subject is nearly unavoidable. They wouldn't want to jinx his name and have him magically appear on their doorstep. No. Never again. They cease to acknowledge him as their father, Dean especially. John's not in their life anymore and that's the way it's going to stay. It's not like he'll be coming in any time soon.

Despite being old enough to buy cigarettes, Sam doesn't want Dean to leave his side when it's time for bed. The slightly spikey haired blonde understands completely, leaving the room to change out his own clothes. When he comes back, Sam has to hide his blushing face in the covers; Dean's practically naked. Well, he's  _not_ naked, but he's almost there. He's only in his boxers. There's a healed scar on his right bicep from when he tried to get the knife away from John two years ago.

Sam's only in a hoodie and sweatpants, feeling vastly overdressed. His brother quickly hops on the bed, flopping on Sam's form. It's all fun and games until the teen starts thinking dirty thoughts. Thankfully, Dean gets under the blankets with Sam, turning out the light and grabbing him close so that his chin is right on top of his head. He kisses it once.

"Sweet dreams, Sammy. I love you."

It seems as though Dean's fast asleep before Sam can even reply. Might as well. They've had a very long day today. Bobby was supposed to help them, but Dean decided against it saying that he's helped them enough. He's right though. Feeling the comforting embrace of his brother, Sam's lulled to sleep by the soft snores of Dean, idly thinking of the cryptic fortune from earlier.

_Your past is your future..._

* * *

There's nothing better than sugary cereal for breakfast. Dinner too, but that was when Dean used to watch Sam in their youth. He doesn't't trust the man cooking breakfast at all, choosing to do it himself. He doesn't pull any punches when questioned. Dean pouts as if his feelings are hurt, but Sam knows better. He's just a regular, everyday jokester.

Sam likes that about his brother. He can be super serious when the situation demands it, but in the meantime, he'll be your best friend in the whole world. Unless you piss him off. Sam knows that he's never done anything to cause Dean extreme stress, so he's alright. He's not sure that the rules even apply to him anyways. Dean loves him unconditionally.

They talk at the kitchen table about the local High School. Dean says that before he goes down to the repair garage, he'll drop Sam off. He's apprehensive, as expected, saying that it'll only draw attention to himself. Dean ruffles his hair because he's a goofball. There's honestly no place that Sam would rather be than at Dean's side. Dean, Dean, Dean. Just Dean.

"You gotta make an entrance in High School, Sammy." Dean finishes his cereal, grabbing his jacket and keys. "Posturing is necessary."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"I don't know. Just sounded fancy. Come on. Time to go impress some people that won't even matter in the years to come."

* * *

His stomach has a major case of the butterflies. Those little bastards won't stop fluttering around, making Sam even more anxious than he already is. Dean's apparently excited to be flaunting his beautiful baby around the school and it's not Sam. That's the joke he told him as they pulled up to the front of the school.

There's a lot of teenagers outside, each doing something individually or something in groups. Sam's read about this sort of thing on the Internet. Cliques. He obviously won't belong with the Jocks despite his height and impressive hand to eye coordination. Time will tell, he silently supposes. Almost of the the kids out front glance in their direction, murmuring amongst themselves. There's an obvious cheerleader twirling her hair at Dean who just scoffs under his breath, giving a small wave.

He reaches in his wallet to give his little brother ten dollars. "Here you go. That's for lunch and maybe extra so you can have pocket change. Go to the front desk for your schedule. You got this, Kiddo. You're a Winchester. Now, once you're inside, you're gonna have to beat up the biggest, toughest jerk in there. That's how you assert your dominance."

Sam's eye widen hilariously. "Are you serious!?"

"No, I'm not serious! I'm only kidding! Oh, God, the look on your face." Dean can't control his laughter; Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Dumb joke. Just be yourself. And I meant it yesterday when I said come to me if they fuck with you."

"I know." Sam says as he gets out of the car and shuts the door. He bends down to continue speaking with him from the window. "I'll talk to you later."

"I'll pick you up after school." Dean yells the next part loud enough for everyone outside to hear as he speeds away. "Love you, Sammy!"

The teen's face flushes red with embarrassment. He's not so surprised that Dean would pull some crazy shit like this. That's what he does; he tries to make his brother smile. It doesn't help Sam's feelings towards him though. Not in the slightest. He's positive that the kids behind him are burning a hole in the back of his head with their staring, so he faces them head on.

When he turns around, everyone continues to talk about him like he's not even there. About the nice car, the hot guy driving the nice car and whether or not the boy and the hot guy are dating. That's very laughable in itself actually. Even if Dean did like guys, Sam's not entirely sure that he'd be his type because let's face it: Sam's a scrawny thing. He's tall, awkward and a bit gangly. He wouldn't be the perfect choice for Dean.

As he makes his way through the crowd, a beautiful, long legged blonde stops him, smiling. She's the type of girl that Dean wouldn't even bother to take home. He'd just have sex with her and leave. What a shame too. She's pretty. Seems nice, though Sam hasn't heard her say a single word yet so it's too quick for judgment. She's dressed appropriately it seems; Dean goes for the really slutty ones with the sluttiest clothing imaginable.

"Hi!" She seems too cheerful, but friendly. Sam can see the two of them hitting it off nicely. "You're new here, right?" The girl doesn't even wait for Sam to respond. "Of course you are. I'm Jessica Moore. Welcome to Lawrence High. What's your name?"

"S--Sam. I'm Sam."

Jessica takes him by the hand and into the building and to the front desk. He pretends that some of the students behind him aren't looking at him strangely. Sam sends up a silent prayer to God that none of them recognize him from the news or the paper or anything. Some of these kids are people that he used to know. He wants to forget everything despite the reason why Dean's doing this. He doesn't want to heal, he wants the past to erase itself.

"Well, Sam, we need to get you situated, don't we? Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"No!" Sam says too quickly. "At least I--I don't think so. I probably just have one of those...faces, ya know...?"

"Probably. I could be mistaken. I'm sure that it happens all the time. I can't wait to show you around!"

After getting his schedule, Jessica informs him that they share the same homeroom as her and her friends. Sam's nervous enough as it is. He doesn't need to meet anymore people. He's met his quota for today. Though he's loathe to let her down for some reason. She grabs his hand again, leading them to homeroom. The students look at him as if he's lost; Sam looks down at his sneakers.

He's used to being scrutinized, but not by so many people at once. That's a lie. She leads them over to her buddies who are all near the front. She introduces one of them as Tyson Brady, star quarterback of the football team and her boyfriend. Two more are brothers, Gabriel Milton and Castiel Novak. Gabe's a short guy, though Sam's sure that he doesn't appreciate being called such. The last one is Gabriel and Castiel's older brother, Nick. He's got blonde hair similar to Dean, though not quite. It's a little bit more dusty. They all jokingly call him "Lucifer", but Sam won't do so.

The teen takes the seat closest to Nick because he seems like a pretty cool guy. When he smiles, the boy's tummy does backflips. Oh, no. He's developing a crush already. Already!? Yes, already. Soon, the teacher comes into the classroom with a confident switch in her step. She's a dark skinned woman, slightly rounded. She glances directly at Sam and grins. What's that about. She must be new because she wasn't here when he used to go here.

She grabs the class's attention shortly after arriving. "Good Morning, Everyone."

"Good Morning, Ms. Moseley." The class responds minus Sam.

"We have a new student present, as I'm sure you're all aware." She gestures for Sam to get up. "Sir, if you would be so kind as to introduce yourself."

Dammit. He doesn't want to risk it! It was inevitable really. In a town such as this, there's no way that you can keep a secret. Unwillingly, Sam gets up from his seat, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in his worn out jeans. He's not prepared for this, he never was. To make matters more complicated, he's never liked to speak publicly. Even after...even after what happened.

"H--Hi." He begins. "I'm, uh, I'm not...exactly... _new_ here."

The soft murmurs from some of the students don't go unnoticed by Sam or even Ms. Mosley. "Oh? Do please tell us more."

"I...um...well, I, uh, my brother and I used to live here. Two years ago. My name...is Sam Winchester."

And it begins, obviously. The soft murmurs turn into all out conversation. Bring it on, Sam thinks. He's heard it all before. Though the only people who seem unmoved by all this are Jessica and her friends and Ms. Mosley. Eventually, the students all calm down after the teacher directs them to. Sam sits back in his seat unprompted. Nick touches his arm gently as a reassurance. It's cute and his hand is a little cold, but he means well. Sam wishes that he's in his classes, Jessica too. He would like their support.

* * *

The day passes by very much the same way. Word has already gotten out around the school that Sam, the son of John Winchester, has returned to his hometown after two years of silence. It's kinda dramatic. Like he's staring in his very own horror movie, but instead, it picks up after the final confrontation. Sam's a horror movie buff, just like his brother.

Most people that pass by aren't so nice. They whisper things near him that he can hear. Sam doesn't know if they're doing it deliberately or not, he just knows that it's kind of a dick move. He's never done anything but live his life like the rest of them. What give them the right to judge him based on what his psycho father did to him? The very thought of it is frustrating.

During fourth period, Sam excused himself to go to the bathroom. In reality, he didn't have to relieve himself. He just needed to escape from the whispers for a little while. Upon getting in there, he sees a lone student, propped up against the wall and smoking a cigarette. He's a little shorter than Sam, but taller than Gabriel it seems. Just as he backs up to leave, the other teenager calls out to him. He has an English accent.

"Hey, where you off to, Love?" He grins. "Fancy a smoke?"

Sam doesn't know why he doesn't just leave. "No, I--I don't smoke."

"Shame. It'd be real nice to have--wait! I know you. You're the little bugger that got fucked and almost murdered by his father two years ago!"

Fuck. That's one way to put it. He's so done with this place if this is how his remaining time at the high school is going to be. Sam frowns, turning back to leave. However, just as he's about to exit, the portly teen blocks his way, grinning deviously. His intentions are hostile; Sam shrinks in on himself. He's not a violent person, but rage is building up inside of him in horrible waves.

"Oh, come on. What's the rush? Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't we play a little game? Would you rather. It's quite easy actually. Would you rather kill yourself, or kill that fucked up man who fucked you?"

"What is this...?" Sam nearly sobs. It sounds like a deep growl instead.

"I think I already know the answer to this." The asshole laughs. He stops when he sees Sam seething. "Aww. What's the matter? You know the answer too, don't you? It'd be you, wouldn't it? You'd blow your fucking brains out because you're probably afraid of him. You know, when my dad gets drunk, he just knocks me around a bit. He doesn't tie me up and play with my willy."

Someone chooses that exact moment to open the door. He's tall with brown hair that's styled in a way that Dean wouldn't like. He doesn't look like a student, but a member of the faculty if his formal casual clothes are any indication. He's handsome and Sam's sure that without his rimless glasses, he'd still look just as good, if not better. The man quickly realizes what's going on before casting angry eyes on the other boy.

"Crowley, what's going on here?" He asks sternly. "And don't lie to me."

"We were just having a talk, Mr. Carson. That's all."

"Mhm." Mr. Carson glances at Sam, eyes twinkling. That was weird. "Is this true?" When presented with the question, Sam ducks his head down. "I see. Crowley, you have detention after school. No excuses. Make that three days detention for smoking in the building."

Crowley, just to be a real douchebag, decides to finish off his cigarette in front of Mr. Carson, blowing the smoke in his face. He glares openly at Sam right before he exits the bathroom, leaving the teen and Mr. Carson alone. It gets awkward just staring at each other until Sam looks away. The man's looking at him like...well, like a meal. He's sure that it's nothing, but it could be anything.

"Are you alright, Sam?"

"How do you know my--?"

"Forgive me, but everyone's talking about you." Mr. Carson chuckles slightly. "I'm Matthew Carson, the school's guidance counselor. Nice to meet you, Samuel. Is it okay if I call you that from time to time? I, uh, it's embarrassing to say, but I really love your name--that name. Gosh..."

Sam blushes. He's not sure why. "It's okay...guess." He then does something out of the norm, even for him. "You know, only if I can call you Matt."

"That'd be fine by me,  _Samuel_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else have goosebumps right now...? ;)


	2. Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam talks with Mr. Carson.

During the day, Sam suddenly couldn't stop thinking of Mr. Carson--Matt. He still has to get used to that. It seems that Sam's got two crushes now. One's completely innocent while the other is more of a slight infatuation. Nick probably likes him too, though he hasn't made the first move, but he's not really thinking of Nick at the moment. His mind keeps wandering around towards Matt.

He's undeniably handsome. God, if he was only Sam's age, the boy would probably have the courage to ask him out or at least garner his attention. He isn't ready to start going out with anyone. His father ruined his confidence in himself a long time ago. So, no, Sam won't do anything more to draw attention from either Nick or Matt. It's against the rules to even act on that with a student.

As Sam gets his lunch from the lunch line, he looks around for a table. He sees Jessica and her friends. She notices him too, waving him over. However, just as he starts to walk over, he glances to his right suddenly. He sees Matt sitting alone at a table in the corner, eating a homemade sandwich from a brown paper bag and reading a novel. He looks a bit lonely; the man doesn't dare look at the teenager's all around. It's almost as if he thinks that they're all idiots. Sam thinks that way too sometimes.

Shrugging at Jessica in apology, Sam veers to the right, coming to stand near Matt. He takes a seat when the guy smiles, moving his satchel so the teen can have a proper place to sit. Sam chances a look at the book that Matt's reading. It's Moby Dick. He actually read it last year when Uncle Bobby carried in a huge box of books for him to read for his birthday. Dean gave him a card with some money in it and snuck him his first beer. Great times.

"Welcome to my office." Matt jokes, wiping his hands with a napkin before reaching to shake Sam's.

He politely shakes it, reveling in the warmth that it gives off. "F--forgive me if I say that your office is...kinda bad..."

"Eh, it's not so bad. So, what brings you over here? Let me guess: You heard about the time I almost punched the gym teacher in the face and you came over here to see if it's true. Was I spot on?"

Sam shakes his head, grinning. "No! I--I mean, that must be a weird story to tell, but I didn't come over here for that."

"Oh...well, forgive me for embarrassing myself once again in front of someone so adorable. I can't help it."

Matt must be doing this on purpose. He himself grins when Sam's face turns scarlet immediately. Remembering how it must seem on the outside looking in, Sam consciously tones it down a bit, biting his lip and willing for his cheeks not to flush. It's kind of hard to do so when Matt is just so...charming. It's unreal.

Clearing his throat, Sam pushes on. "I, uh, walked over here because I saw that you were alone. Why aren't you with the other teachers?"

"I prefer to be by myself. Most people don't like me anyways, so I don't mind. It's so dull being with others who rarely have the same interests as you. Me, I'd rather stay in solace with a nice book. You like books, Samuel?"

"I do!" Sam realizes too late that he's a little too eager; he blushes all over again. "I--I mean, I enjoy them very much. I read Moby Dick last year. It's a masterpiece."

"Oh, no, I very much agree! I love the dynamic between the captain and the whale. His obsession with the beast borders on insanity and I love how he'll do anything to achieve his goals. He's ruthless like that. It's admirable, honestly. We all have that 'white whale' that needs to be...dealt with, if you get my meaning."

Sam doesn't catch his meaning as a matter of fact. Quite the opposite actually. He's never had to chase something so hard like Captain Ahab, only to fail in the end anyway. John altered his way of thinking when he violated him; he barely spoke or even moved. It was so bad that Sam to stay in a psych ward for seventy-two hours. Dean was always there though. His constant. His everything.

"Yeah, I do." Sam lies.

Matt smiles because he's a goofball. How can anyone  _not_ like him!? He's funny, intelligent and he's kind. Whoever doesn't want to be around this man is nuts. His girlfriend probably does a lot of nice things for him. And that's assuming that Matt even has a girlfriend. He looks like the type to have that one pretty brunette in his bed every morning when he wakes up. Sam blushes wildly again.

He's thinking of waking up with Matt on the weekends, staying indoors and just cuddling in bed. Talking and occasionally kissing. Sam daydreams about how it feels to have Matt pressed up against his body in a warm hug. Can't be that good, definitely not better than Dean's hugs. God, what's wrong with him? John really must've fried his son's brain when he did those horrible things to him because he's not thinking or acting the way he normally does.

Suddenly, and all too quickly, the bell rings, signaling all of the students in the cafeteria to proceed with their day. Jessica and the others wave at him with the girl winking suggestively. God, no! He was so into the conversation with Matt that he forgot to eat his lunch. Stupid. As he abruptly gets up to leave and join his new friends, Matt stands and touches his hand gently, out of view from anyone else but them.

"You know, if you want to drop on by my office--my  _real_ office--my door's always open if you wanted to talk. Only if you want to though." Matt fumbles with his words in a nerdy, cute way. "I made up your schedule for you, so I know you have Study Hall for next period. I'm not stalking you or anything--wait, that came out wrong. I'm just watching to see--God, that's bad too. Just forget that I said anything--"

Sam laughs. It's a real live laugh. He only reserves these ones for Dean. It feels like he's cheating on him. Wow. "I think I can stop by. Thank you. I'll just--what should I do? Do I follow you or...?"

"Yeah! Yeah, yeah. It's just around the corner. I don't have any other appointments this afternoon, so you have me all to yourself."

As they walk out of the cafeteria, Sam doesn't bother to correct him on his wording. He just stays silent and keeps his head down as he overhears students whispering about him again. About how he's so fucked up that he to talk to the school's guidance counselor to set his mind straight. It's all baseless speculation now at this point. Everyone's making up a different story for him. Surprisingly, they all sound better than his real story.

* * *

"Alright," Matt sighs, taking off his glasses. He sits behind his desk; Sam sits opposite him in a comfortable chair. "I'm just gonna ask you some questions. Some are basic, some are a bit personal. You don't have to tell me anything that you aren't comfortable with. Understand?"

Sam nods absently, looking around the neat office. "I understand."

"Okay. Excellent. Now, first question: How are you today?"

"I'm...I'm a little stressed out."

"Why's that?"

"Because...I'm finally stepping foot in this place after two long years. It seems that...that the memory of the incident is not only still fresh in my mind, but in everyone else's too."

Matt frowns, clasping his hands together. "And the incident that you're referring to is the night when your father raped and almost killed you?"

"Y--yes."

"How'd you feel that night? What was going through your mind as he molested you?"

These words..."rape" and "molested". They aren't foreign to Sam by any means. They just aren't the words that he wants to acknowledge. He doesn't even want to acknowledge the fact that his father forced himself on his youngest son in a drunken haze. It all sounds pretty fucked up. That's what Dean would say if he was here. He's not.

"I..." Sam hesitates. "I don't--"

Matt unbuttons the top two buttons on his shirt. "It's okay, Sam. Like I said, you don't have to say anything that you aren't comfortable with. I'm here to help."

"I already had doctors and therapists to help me." Sam huffs out a weak laugh. He feels like breaking down in tears. "I'm...abnormal."

"You're not abnormal, Samuel. You're extraordinary. Born to do great things." Matt stands up from behind his desk, coming to sit on it in front of Sam. When their eyes met...well, it's indescribable. "Great things. Now, next question: How's home life so far?"

At the question, Sam starts to think of Dean. Oh, Dean and his perfect face with his perfect body with his perfect hair. He's God's gift to the world. Sam's world. No one else's. He's reminded of the time when his brother was on a date with dumb girl. Sam was home alone; Bobby had stuff to do. All he had to do was text Dean, telling him that he missed him. Within ten minutes, Dean was back home, watching horror movies until the sun came up.

This particular memory is why Sam holds Dean in high regard. He drops everything for his brother, Sam does too. They've always been like that, but Dean changed when John did what he did. He became worried more often than not about Sam's wellbeing, taking long strides to ensure that his brother was just fine and then some. He protects him against the outside world, from intruders who wish to make him relive that terrible night. Dean almost killed his last psychiatrist for making Sam cry. Thankfully, the guy didn't sue.

"Home life is perfect." The boy answers quietly. "My older brother, Dean, is the greatest thing in my life. I love him so much. He'd give me the shirt off his back if I asked for it." Sam chuckles. "Well, even if I didn't, he still would. He doesn't treat anyone else the way he treats me."

Matt nods. "I see. Dean must be a real hero to you."

"He is...he's my hero. Literally and figuratively speaking."

"How do you mean?"

"Dean...he's--he...he, uh, he's the one that...he saved my life, twice. The night two years ago and when I was a baby. Before living in the house we did now, we lived in another one just across town. I can't remember it and Dean or...John never showed it to me. There was a fire in my room and my mom tried to save me...but she couldn't. Dean saved me. He was only Four..."

The exact details of what happened Eighteen years ago aren't entirely clear for Sam. He's been told that there was faulty wiring in his room that might have caused the fire. It sounds believable, but everyone's got their doubts about things. Being Six Months Old at the time of her death, Sam doesn't really remember his mother at all. Dean and John had only fond memories of her, but when questioned for too long, they'd get sad.

Sam wishes that he could meet her. He misses her though he's never met her in a sense. He lacked a motherly figure growing up, only being raised by Dean. Their father was always working and when he wasn't, he did try his best with his children, even if he fell short sometimes. Sam can't blame his father on that. He tried. Single parents usually have it bad. But then why? Why do those horrible, terrible things to him? Perhaps he'll never know now...

* * *

The session with Matt lasted longer than Sam had thought. He's actually a good guy. He tried his best to choose his words carefully after he saw Sam in distress. After that, he resumed his schedule, making it a point to try and visit the man's office during Study Hall. It's just for talking, purely for talking. It's innocent. That's what he keeps saying to himself.

After the last period bell rung, Sam was among the first students to leave the building. As he had hoped/expected, Dean was right there, leaning against the car with a huge smile on his face. Feeling intense happiness, Sam sprints towards his brother, nearly tripping twice. When he gets there, they embrace, huge hugs being delivered. It feels so nice. Dean smells so good. He loves him. Like a brother, like a lover.

Dean removes Sam's backpack and throws it in the backseat. He kisses his forehead, ruffling his hair afterwards. As Sam gets into the car, he notices a couple of girls walk by. They sneer at him, but they stop to smile and wave at the older Winchester. Dean, being the perceptive guy that he is, notices this and takes the offensive. Sam couldn't have been more shocked.

"If you bitches are done being bitches, I gotta get my boy home. Excuse us."

He starts up the car and drives away without a second glance. Sam's too surprised to do anything than stare open mouthed at Dean. The guy thinks on his feet. It's admirable. He turns on the radio, surprised that it nearly blows out his eardrums. Sam quickly turns the dial down and scowls at Dean who's laughing uncontrollably.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean cackles. "But I was rocking out earlier. How was school?"

Sam's scowl turns into a small grin. He can't stay upset with his brother for long. "It was good, I guess. And before you ask, no, no one messed with me. I'm fine."

"You're lying." Dean's face is scary as he stare out onto the road. Full of anger.

"I--I'm not--!"

"You think I don't know my little brother? I know everything, Sammy. Big Brothers know literally everything. Who did it, what's their name, and can I legally kick the shit out of them?"

Sam snickers, biting his lip after. "I thought Big Brothers knew everything."

"Shut up." Dean's expression goes back from bloodthirsty to happy in seconds. "You gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to call the school?"

What!? Now he's taking this a little too far. Farther than far. If he calls the school, that'll be the end of Sam's developing social life. In order to escape more potential embarrassment, Sam cracks, telling his brother what happened in the bathroom earlier. He left no stone unturned in his story, telling it in exact detail. After he was finished, Dean nodded.

"Okay...I'm gonna kill him."

"Dean!" Sam laughs/yells. "It's been taken care of. I don't think he'll bother me anymore. Not with my new friends around."

"People like him don't just give up--wait,  _friends_!?" Dean grins. "You have  _friends_ now, Sammy? On the first day?"

"Y--yeah!"

Dean surges over to the passenger seat, smooching his brother on his cheeks while simultaneously using the steering wheel to avoid careening off the road. Sam tries his best to not punch his one, true best friend in the face as he yells at him to watch the road. Eventually, Dean listens, coming back up to brake at a stoplight. He smirks and winks at Sam.

He looks so young right now. Younger than he already is. Twenty-Two is doing wonders for him. He's not just all muscle and machismo either. Dean's got this...boyishly handsome face that makes Sam want him so bad. He can't keep thinking like this. Between Dean, Nick and Matt, there's just too many to choose from. Not true. He's definitely not going for Dean. That's his brother, end of conversation. That only leaves Nick because Matt's a member of the faculty.

It occurs to Sam then that Dean probably doesn't know  _everything_ about him. His sexual preferences and such. It's...complicated to talk about, even to himself, but he knows that Dean's in his corner. No matter what. As the older man pulls off again, Sam starts to speak, palms sweaty. He's nervous about this, telling Dean what he's into. He'll probably think of him a little less if he gets this off his chest though, do that's a small plus.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Wassup?"

"I kinda...I kinda like someone..."

Dean grins, patting Sam on the thigh. "Really? That's great. Who is she? What's her name?"

Here comes the hard part. Sam wills his heart to stop racing so he can have the courage to continue on. "Well, she--she isn't a she...it's a he...and his name is Nick..."

"He...?"

Sam can't quite figured out what emotion is inside of Dean's voice right now, but it doesn't sound pleasant nor disappointed. It's...shocked, surprised even. Sam looks at the steering wheel, seeing Dean grip it harshly. His knuckles are turning white at the severity of the grip. He must be angry. Oh, no. This is going bad. Just when Sam's about to apologize and laugh it off as a joke, Dean starts cracking up.

At this point, Sam's confused, because he thinks that his brother is having a nervous breakdown. It's okay. We're all entitled to our own nervous breakdowns every once in a while. Sam's already had his in the bathroom this morning as he stared into the mirror while brushing his teeth. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees his own face from that night, begging to be released from his father.

"What's...what's so funny anyways...?" Sam mumbles, pouting.

"You, Baby Boy! I mean, I know I'm supposed to be knowing everything, but I didn't see this coming. Don't get me wrong, Sammy, I'm not mad. In fact, I've also been...well, I've also dipped my fingers in guy-pie. It's alright I suppose."

"Oh My God--"

"Of course, it's different than with a girl. You know what a guy likes, what you like, so you just do that and--"

"No!" Sam shouts, hitting his brother in the shoulder. "No! No! No! No! No! I do  _not_ want to hear about you and...ugh... _guy-pie_! Just get us home, De."

"Mkay, Sammy." Dean smiles, turning up the radio a little bit. "I love you, Kid, no matter who you are and what you like. You know that right?"

(Of course. I love you too. So much. I want to be with you...)

"Of course. I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Sam. Poor, poor, Sammy. :(


	3. Keep In Mind, Transmogrification Is A New Technology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam faces problems with reintegrating back into normal high school while battling his PTSD and crushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for any typos and/or spelling errors. I got lazy because I stayed up for two days writing, scrapping, and rewriting this chapter. Ugh! Enjoy.

The night was spent almost exactly like the last with Dean ruining dinner and having to call for take out. If this continues, Sam's gonna have to end up cooking for the two of them. That's not a bad thought though. It feels like they're married. That in itself is a major problem. These intense feelings that he has for his brother is disgusting, he knows this. But he can't help it. Lie. He can help it, but Dean makes it hard for him when he touches him ever so slightly. He can stop thinking about him whenever he wants. Another fucking lie, right there.

Dean mentions, very enthusiastically, that he managed to snag that job at the car garage in town. He didn't even need to apply; they tested him on basic repairs and he passes with flying colors. Sam's proud of his knucklehead of a brother. He's also envious of him. Whenever there's a problem, Dean shrugs it off casually or he solves it like it's nothing. No matter how hard Sam tries, he can't seem to follow his example in that aspect.

He can't talk to many people because he's too shy. Dean can talk to anyone because he's got charm. Sam can't say something to anyone without becoming self-conscious about the way he's talking. Dean can talk an elderly woman out of her underwear within seconds. It hasn't before, not to Sam's immediate knowledge. Great, now the image is stuck in his head and it's gonna be for a while. Ew. Sick.

As he stepped out of the bathroom from his shower, Sam overhears Dean talking to someone on the phone. He's curious to know who this person is, but he also wants to respect his brother's privacy as he would do the same. However, curiosity gets the better of him and he quietly slinks to Dean's door, pressing his ear against the wood. It's a little muffled, but he can hear just fine. The subject matter isn't very surprising to be completely honest. It was only a matter of time. 

"No, Bobby," He hears Dean say. "That's not the problem. The problem is that anytime he sets foot in that room, he starts getting flashbacks or something. And to top it all off, he starts staring into space at odd times. I don't know, maybe coming here was a mistake. Yeah. Right. Okay. Well, I want Sam to have some fucking sense of normalcy now and I'm gonna make damn sure that he's situated nicely. I'll do a better job than John. Okay. Alright. Thanks. I think he's out of the shower now. I'll put him on."

Fuck! Sam panics, but it's too late. He stumbles back as Dean opens the door, looking just as shocked as the boy. Sam smiles nervously, taking the phone from his brother when slowly presented with it. He's not dressed at all, only barely wrapped in a towel. For a second, and only for a second, Dean blushes, but moves his eyes away from Sam. Weird. He takes the call to his bedroom and shuts the door, excited to speak with Bobby.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby."

_"Hey, Munchkin. How ya holding up? I hear from Dean that you have some friends now. Are they good people?"_

There's hesitation, but Sam smiles. "Yeah, they are. I think...I might like one of them..."

_"Yeah...your brother told me about that too. Listen, Sam, I won't treat you any different just because you like other guys. You're still you, you're still the same quiet, shy and smart kid that I've always known. When I get some time off, I'll come on by to check out the house. I love you both."_

"We love you too, Uncle Bobby." Sam says as his eyes well up. "Very much. Bye."

Sam hangs up the phone, setting it next to him on the bed. He's feeling empty because of what Dean said not too long ago. He wants to be normal again, to just say what he wants without hesitation, like Dean. Sam doesn't want to let him down. Starting tomorrow, he's definitely gonna start being more vocal towards people, Nick in particular. And that's just the first step. He imagines that if things go well, he might be invited to a party sometime this year.

He removes the towel, standing naked in the middle of the room. He's not much to look at, though he's gained a bit of muscle mass by working out a little with Dean. When the person in question opens the door without knocking, Sam almost dies of embarrassment. He fails to cover up in time, shouting at Dean to knock first. The man's eyes go wide as he openly stares at Sam's naked body, legs wobbling. The towel is thrown over his head by the boy to shield his eyes while he quickly finds something to sleep in.

"Don't you dare remove that towel, Dean Winchester!" Sam growls when the man raises his hand to do just that. He puts it down, hanging his head. "You have a lot of nerve coming in here unannounced. Did you suddenly forget the knock rule?"

"Yeah..." Sam can't see it, but he knows that Dean's pouting. "I'm sorry."

Sam slips on some house shorts, having no time for underwear. He digs around in his duffel bag for a shirt, only coming up with one of Dean's. It's his favorite Van Halen shirt. Sam puts it on anyway, determined to deal with the consequences later. It's a little big on him, but the entire length of the shirt only goes past his stomach. Dean's never been a patient man, so he removes the towel without Sam's permission. He seems mesmerized by the sight in front of him for some reason.

There's an odd look in his eyes that mirror something akin to lust or want. Sam knows that he's reading this wrong, but he can't unsee it. Dean would never touch him or hold him or kiss him like a lover. His mind is playing tricks on him for sure. That's the only explanation for this nonsense. Soon, Dean snaps out of it, wiping away drool from his mouth. Yeah, that's not a red flag. Not at all. He clears his throat as if nothing is wrong as he tosses the towel back at Sam.

"I was looking for that, you thief." Dean smirks because he's an asshole. "Just can't get enough of me, can you?"

Sam groans in annoyance, pushing stray strands of his hair behind his ears. He knows that he probably looks androgynous right now, indistinguishable from a teen male or female. He can't care any less though. He's comfortable as hell, but he's clearly annoyed by his older brother's presence...even if he also isn't. Dean's so hot. Curse his awesome face! His freckles are peering out in this light, making him look like a teenager all over again.

"If you say so, Dean." He yawns unexpectedly; It's only 10:00.

"You tired?"

"Is it that obvious...?" Sam asks shyly. He's blushing.

"Yeah, it's pretty much written all over your face." Dean walks up to Sam, hugging him and placing a kiss in his forehead gently. "If you need me, I'm just across the hall like it used to be. Goodnight, Sammy."

Just as Dean prepares to exit, Sam grabs his arm. His brother looks at him confused. "No. I--I...I'm not...I'm not ready. Can I sleep with you, De?"

That...was the wrong choice of words apparently. Dean's silent, blush coming back full force. Sam also catches on, embarrassed by the words he so haphazardly said aloud. They were so different in his head, he swears! The both of them stand there, too close, too intimate. Sam's afraid to open his mouth again because he'll end up fucking up some kind of way.

Dean doesn't say anything as he takes Sam by the hand out of his room, shutting off the light and closing the door as they leave. They wind up inside of Dean's room. It's the exact same size as Sam's, just with more posters of different classic rock bands and pinups of girls. Jesus, he was such a typical guy that it's not even funny. In front of Sam, Dean begins to take off his clothes, tossing casual conversation over his shoulder.

"So, what's his name?" Dean asks as he takes off his shirt, putting it in his duffel bag.

"Huh?"

"The kid. Sorry. The  _guy_ that you like. I wanna know his name. Ya know, in case I have to fuck him up."

"Nick..." Sam answers quietly, getting into Dean's made up bed. It's soft. "His name is Nick. He's a nice guy."

The older Winchester sighs as he shrugs out of his jeans, nearly tripping over them when they cling to his ankles. It's very funny to Sam, seeing this. Dean never ceases to amaze him with his unintended goofiness. He's a screwball in the best sense of the work. Sam laughs out loud when his brother finally wiggles out of his pants. He also laughs, tossing them at Sam who expertly dodges the clothing.

Dean hops onto the bed and pins Sam's arms above his head, grinning. The necklace that Sam bought him for his birthday is hanging from his neck, teetering back and forth. Dean's grip on Sam loosens, enabling the boy to slowly reach up to curl his fingers around the amulet on the black cord. Dean looks on as he does, unreadable expression stuck in his face. Soon though, he flops on top of the young man, using his full weight.

"Dean!" Sam squeals/laughs. "Get off me! You weigh a freaking ton!"

"It's cause I'm sexy." Dean explains, voice muffled from the crook of Sam's neck.

"So, you're heavy because you're hot?"

"I didn't say I was hot. I said sexy. You thinkin naughty thoughts about your brother, Sammy? You want my guy-pie?"

"I'm going to strangle you, I swear. To God. Your death will be swift indeed."

Even if Dean's right about him thinking naughty thoughts, he's just joking. He's ignorant to the fact that yes, Sam sometimes fantasizes about what it'd be like to make out with his brother, or how it would feel kiss him under the stars. He hasn't really thought about taking it all the way, even with Dean. John ruined that as well. Sex is a matter best solved by seeing if it'll happen when it happens.

Sam isn't in any hurry to have sex with anyone at the moment. It hurt immensely the first time, so he doesn't want to do it again anytime soon. Someone's first time is supposed to be special. What happened two years ago was anything but special. John took something away from him that can never be returned: his innocence. He took away everything the moment he snuck into his room.

Eventually, Dean rolls over, pulling Sam up against him, back to chest. Sam's the little spoon in this equation, though with the way he's growing, he doubts that it'll stay that way for long. Dean reaches over him to turn out the light, wrapping his arms securely around Sam's chest. This feels so nice, so right for some reason. It has Sam closing his eyes and just breathing in Dean's scent around him.

"Goodnight, De." Sam says first. He bites his lip on the last part. "I love you so much..."

Dean's warm breath touches the back of his neck as he huffs a small laugh. "I love you too, Sammy. Goodnight."

Within minutes, Dean's fast asleep. There's a pattern in here somewhere. This guy can sleep through an earthquake, Sam swears! Though, there was one time in which he slept through a tornado, just slept through the whole thing. No matter what, Sam and Bobby couldn't seem to wake him up. And then, when it was all over, he finally did get up. His hair was a mess and looked way too happy for Bobby's liking. Dean had only smiled, grinding his fist into Sam's hair.

Sam soon falls asleep too, wrapped snugly in Dean's log-like arms. Seriously, how strong is this guy? Doesn't matter. That's not what's important. What's important is fact that Sam plans in changing the way he does things now, starting with talking to others, his friends. 

* * *

_Sam wakes up in Dean's bed, a little bit disoriented. He looks around, but Dean is no where to be found. Looking towards the window, Sam sees that it's still dark outside, moon shining right in through the glass. Everything is hazy, glowing almost. Suddenly, Dean walks out of the shadows, standing stark naked in front of his brother. He looks like a God, though Sam's positive that even a God would tremble at the sight of his amazing body._

_He has no shame, no modesty, as he strokes his manhood. He even smirks when Sam swallows the huge lump in his throat. That's not the only thing huge here. Dean's member is impressive. It looks big, but it might be even heavier in his hand. As if he's read his mind, Dean crawls to the bed, getting on his knees to straddle Sam. He takes the boy's hand and puts it in his cock on his palm. Tiny droplets of pre-cum lazily spill out like water from a faucet._

_It's strange that Dean's not saying anything. Sam isn't either. The older Winchester just sits there smirking, encouraging the boy to play with his throbbing dick. Sam does just that, hearing an audible moan fall from his manly brother's lips. It's sweet, like a fruit. Before he realizes it, Dean takes out Sam's cock, stroking that as he strokes him. He's read about mutual masturbation before and he's always wanted to do it with Dean._

_"Do you feel good?" Dean finally speaks, bright grin beaming down on Sam._

_"De--an! I'm going to--!"_  

* * *

Sam opens his eyes suddenly, partially aware of his surroundings. There's not much going on really. When he blinks and his mind returns to him, he's aware of three things.

1\. It's morning. He thought it was night.

2\. There's something hard poking him in his backside.

3\. The crotch of his shorts is soaking wet.

Being the smart kid that he is, it doesn't take too long for Sam to piece together the information. What he thought was reality was a dream. Dean didn't do those things to him at all. It was just a fucking dream. Annoying. What's more is that it was a goddamn wet dream! That's embarrassing even if Dean has no idea. And that's another thing too! Dean's morning wood is clearly stabbing him in the ass...literally.

If he's being 100% honest, it feels kinda good to be like this. That's when he starts to blush and feels disgusted with himself. See, this is a goddamn problem! Sam can't keep thinking about Dean this way, he knows that. If there's a Heaven that his mother is in, then he's sure that she'd be very disappointed in him. God, why does it have to be this way? Why can't be normal. When he tries to get up without being noticed, Sam accidentally brushes up against Dean's erection.

As he feared/expected, Dean groans in pleasure. Sam tries his best to hurry out of the bed, but due to his gangly limbs, he ends up falling out of the bed and onto the floor. The loud thud is enough to fully wake Dean up. He hops out of bed, looking around for Sam. He sighs when sees him, smiling in relief. However, Sam's jaw hangs and his cheeks heat up as he turns his head away. Dean looks down to where Sam was looking to see his intense wood peering out of the hole in the underwear.

Needless to say, Sam's shocked. Though he's probably not as shocked as Dean who stammers as he tries to tuck it back in. It has Sam wondering just who the man was even dreaming about. Who on earth could make Dean have this mega-boner? The answers aren't clear in the least bit, but Dream Dean's cock doesn't hold a candlestick towards Real Dean's. It's fucking huge!

"I--" Dean stutters. "I was--I'm not--God, I wasn't trying to--Fuck! No, I wasn't trying to fuck you--Goddammit!"

Sam continues to look away, blushing terribly. "It's...it's fine, Dean. I know what you meant. Can you, uh, can you leave the room for a second and get me my towel?"

"Why?" Dean frowns, still covering up his package. "Are you hurt? What's the matter?"

"N--Nothing!"

He doesn't want to admit what happened to him in his sleep. Feeling as though Dean won't drop it, Sam subtly covers the wet spot, sprinting out the door. He ignores Dean's calls towards him as he shuts the door. Sam leans against it, thankful that his crisis was averted before it had time to fester wildly. The bulge in his pants from seeing Dean so exposed won't go down anytime soon.

There's only an hour before school starts, so Sam starts stripping out of his shorts, still leaning against the door. He hasn't masturbated in a very long time. Not since...before the incident. It feels weird to do this again, touching himself. He feels dirty, sinful and hot all at the same time. It only fuels him on. This sudden sex drive is frightening, but exciting. After a couple more tugs, Sam silently blows his load on the floor using his dream of him and Dean as material. This is so fucked up. 

* * *

Dean, thankfully, didn't speak on what happened this morning. In the car, he acted as though everything was fine and dandy, even cracking a joke here and there. Sam feels as though Dean should've at least acknowledged what transpired in that bed, but then if he did, then he would've had to tell him about the dream. It's the first time he's ever dreamt about him in that way surprisingly.

Upon being dropped off in front of the school, Dean confesses that he won't be able to pick him up anymore due to his work schedule. Sam tells him that he'll be okay, that he'll just take the bus home. Though very skeptical about the thought of him being by himself for a period of time, Dean relents. Sam's determined to make things better for himself so that Dean can stop worrying about him. He may not agree with why his brother brought back here, but he'll indulge him for a while.

The man pulls off after giving get Sam a hug and a kiss. The students stare at him as he makes his way into the building. He does something foreign to him then. He smiles at them and even waves. Sam's attempting to be a social butterfly, though it's obvious, even to him, that he's trying way too hard. It's been a long time since he's even set foot in a high school; Bobby and Dean kept him home, schooling him themselves. It's time to break out of that shell...maybe starting tomorrow. These students are looking very mean today.

Eventually, Sam meets up with Jessica and her friends, apologizing about yesterday. They shrug it off as if it's not a big deal. Good. Sam just got these friends and he doesn't want to lose them so suddenly. He takes his spot next to Nick again, feeling unsure and even self conscious about himself, about what he's wearing and whether or not he brushed his hair this morning. Soon, the other teenager taps him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Hey." Nick smiles. "How you feeling today? Better than yesterday I hope."

Sam bites his lip. "I guess...I should've known that people would remember me...or at least what my dad did to me..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"No, it's okay. It's getting better." Sam lies. "I'm getting better. I'm... _healing_."

He says it with such disdain and resentment that it has him wondering just where the hell this anger is coming from? Sam has never been an angry person, ever. He's too kind for that bullshit, so what's happening? It must be pent-up anger from what went down with John. At least that's what Sam is theorizing. It's an excellent theory, and the only one that actually makes sense and has an ounce of logic in there.

Nick smiles again, eyes twinkling. "Well, that's good. I apologize in advance if I ever say or do anything that offends you."

"I--I'll hold you to that."

Sam looks at the time. Class is about to start soon and he needs to act fast, to prove to Dean that he can do things outside of his comfort zone. What he's thinking is crazy, but it also sends shivers down his spine. It's exhilarating to just think about it. Doing it? Not so much. Soon enough, he gets over himself, touching Nick on the arm. The guy looks back at him, small grin in place.

"What's up?"

"I was wondering..." Sam starts. It's harder than he imagined. "I was just...just wondering if you--since it's Friday you might have plans and s--stuff. I...I don't know." This is going nowhere fast. A voice inside of his head tells him to push on. He sighs heavily and continues. "If you're free tonight, would you--?"

"Yeah." Nick answers suddenly. "I'd love to hang out with you tonight. I'll pick you up at 8 o'clock. Is that good?"

"Yes!" It's said too quickly. "Um, yes. That's perfectly fine with me. Can't wait."

"Me either."

The bell rings and school soon starts. Things are already starting to take a turn for the better! Sam's having a small party for himself in his mind, cutting the cake and everything. And why not? He's just done the impossible! It scares the shit outta him, but he's so ready to do this. He won't let Dean down. Not now, not ever. This time, he's in control of his own life. He won't let what John did to him drag him down anymore. His actions won't define Sam any longer. 

* * *

He can barely contain his excitement about tonight when he getsto Matt's office. He almost takes the door off of it's hinges with the way he barges in with the man right behind him. Sam didn't sit with him this time, but he met him back at the office. He's so eager to get this started, to tell Matt everything.

"What's got you so chipper today?" The counselor chuckles. "Have an exciting dream about yours truly?"

Sam blushes because he's thinking about Dream Dean now. He shakes it out of his head, becoming happy again. "Very funny, but no. I...I'm just feeling very optimistic about certain things."

"Oh really? Like what, Samuel?"

"Well, I'm trying to be more vocal. I want to rebuild myself, but not from the ground up. I just need to...reconfigure myself into society. Like Tarzan, though I'm no Tarzan. That comparison was weird."

Matt takes off his glasses, setting them up above his head. "No, no! It's a fantastic comparison. I understand completely. Tell me more about this new outlook that you're having. I'm excited to see you excited. You have no idea what this does to me."

"I--I, er," And just like that, Matt turns him into putty in his hands. "I have a...I have a date tonight with Nick Milton. I really like him."

Matt's facial expression changes from cheery to deadly serious within a split second. It has Sam's heart beating overtime because this is a major change in the man's demeanor. What is this? As quickly as he shows it, it's gone in a flash, being replaced with something like...indifference maybe? It's very hard to tell actually. He hopes that Matt doesn't disapprove about this. He considers him a friend as well.

"Wh--Why?" He laughs. "I mean, why are you doing this? Don't you think that this is a little too...questionable?"

Sam frowns. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

The man clasps his hands together, sighing. "If you ask for my opinion, I'll say that you're going too fast for this. You say that you like him, but does he like you back?"

"I think he does--"

"But do you  _know_ that he does?"

"Matt--"

"It's been two years now, Samuel." Matt starts. "Don't rush into this. Most teenagers today are vicious, uncaring about anyone but themselves. He could hurt you, like John. I worry for you."

It's a very commendable attitude, but Sam's already accepted. It's nice to know that someone's in his corner besides Dean and Bobbu. Oh, God. Dean! He needs to tell Dean when he gets off work. He gets off at four and school let's out at two. They'll be able to talk. If he hurries, it's gonna take twenty minutes to get home. Sam imagines the look on hisbrother's face when he tells him about tonight. He'll probably never allow him to leave the house. 

* * *

At two o'clock in the dot, Sam was walking out of the building with his friends. It's so weird to say it now. They offer him a ride, but he declines, saying that the fresh air is just what he needs right now. Soon, everyone leaves and it's just him on the front steps of the school. He has no idea why he's still sitting here, but just as he starts to get up, the doors open and out steps Mr. Carson.

He's looking comfortable with his nice, black leather jacket. Dean has a similar one, thought it's not black. John gave it to him three years ago. He doesn't wear it anymore. Sam's positive that it's probably back at Bobby's house. Dean doesn't take too kindly to memorabilia of John Winchester. It's very understandable. Dean was a witness to what happened. The image of Sam being tied up will forever haunt his memory.

"Hey!" Matt's says surprised. "I thought you'd be home by now, rehearsing your lines for your date."

Sam grins. Matt never fails with his endless jokes. "No, not yet. To be honest, I don't know why I'm still here. I guess I zoned out for a while."

"Do you have a ride home?"

"No. My brother's still at work. I think I'm just gonna catch the bus."

"The next one doesn't arrive until another hour." Matt informs. "I can take you home if you want."

"If it isn't much trouble--"

"None at all. Come on. I'm parked over here." 

* * *

Matt's car is certainly cleaner and newer than Dean's by far. It's a Lexus, an expensive one at that. Must've cost a small fortune. Sam doesn't question him on how he got the car, it's rude to ask people about money. Instead, he asks basic questions like how old he was or if his girlfriend would mind that he's taking one of his students home. Matt explains that, while he's Thirty-One, he doesn't have a girlfriend--or boyfriend--yet. Jeeze, everyone's bi-sexual nowadays.

As he drives Sam home, he too asks questions. If Dean treats him right. If he's ever done anything questionable in the past that might trigger a flashback. Odd questions. Sam answered them honestly though. Yes, Dean treats him like a prince. He doesn't think he's spoiled, but Dean gives him too much attention. And no, Dean's never done anything that triggered a flashback. He's still confused on that question. What does that even mean?

They get to the front of the house soon enough. Sam thanks his guidance counselor for being such a terrific person. The man smirks, telling him to be safe tonight with a weird edge to his tone. It doesn't sound threatening--not towards Sam at least--though. Sam watches as Matt pulls off, extremely excited to have his second chance at a normal life. There's so much unparalleled eagerness right now that he barely puts the key in the keyhole to get in the house.

Immediately, he hops into the shower. He takes three in a row just in case and spends nearly two hours trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. By this time, Dean comes home, curious about what his little brother is doing. Sam, very quickly, give him in depth details about the events of the day. He even tells him about his plan to branch out, to do things on his own again. Dean hugs him, wholeheartedly supporting his decision. Interestingly, the man tells Sam that his boss at the garage is Michael Milton, Nick, Castiel, and Gabriel's older brother.

When the time finally arrived for Nick to arrive, Sam already went through one hundred wardrobe changes. He can't seem to find anything good enough to wear, even if Dean tells him time and time again that he looks fine. The rational part of his brain believes him, it's the irrational part that wants to throw him in front of a moving train. Finally, he settles for a simple pair of jeans and a small hand-me-down shirt from Dean's closet. It works apparently.

It isn't long until the bell rings, forcing Sam to hide behind the couch while Dean answers the door. Instantly, Sam can tell that something is wrong with Nick when he takes a peek from where he's hid. There's a cut Above his lip and he's sporting a black eye. He jumps from his hiding place to take a look.

"Oh my god!" Sam gasps. "Are you okay?"

Nick nods, making it a point to avoid eye contact with Sam. "Yeah, I've had worse."

"Wanna come in?" Dean grunts.

"I--Can I talk to Sam for a minute?"

When Sam feels Dean tense up next to him, he touches his shoulder. "Dean, it's okay."

"Fine. I'll be in the kitchen..."

When he was sure that Dean wasn't in earshot, Sam spoke again. "Come in. I'll get you something before we--"

"Sam," Nick sounds paranoid. "I--I can't stay. I...just came to tell you that I'm sorry and that...I don't really want this. I just wanna be your friend...nothing else."

Sam's heart is crushed. He clenches his jaw, tears brimming in his eyes. The signs were so clear to him. Nick was obviously into him, so why? Why now!? Why make a complete fool out of himself!? The wall that Sam had built around him comes back, refusing to take any part of this foolishness. It's like a switch flips in his head.

"I see..." He says. A tear squeezes its way from his eye and down his face. "You were just...just leading me on."

Nick shakes his head fast. "No! That's not it! I can't--"

"Shut up." He growls. "I don't wanna here what you have to say. I really liked you, Nick. I think you need to leave."

"I...I'm sorry--"

"Leave."

Giving up, Nick shoves his hands in his pockets and backs away from the house. Sam watches with unseeing eyes as the blonde hops into a buddy's car and drives away. Sam slams the door closed, rattling the whole house. Dean rushes from the kitchen as Sam sobs heavily on the floor. His brotherly instincts kick in and he opens the door looking for Nick. He comes up short though.

He goes back inside to comfort Sam. He whispers soft and reassuring promises in his ear, picking him up and carrying him to the couch. Sam's sad, but he's learned something important. He can't rely on anyone else but Dean. He'll fall, but that's okay. Because it's always gonna be Dean who picks him back up again. Sam doesn't need anyone other than the man with short, blunt nails scratching at his scalp just the way he likes. Only Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Matt is visually based upon actor Henry Cavill, the man who plays Superman in Man of Steel and BvS. So just imagine him every time he pops up. (LOL)
> 
> Stay tuned for more!


	4. Winter Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam sulks, prompting Dean to make him feel a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's perspective in this chapter.

Dean's never seen Sam so devastated about something in his life. That's extremely untrue, though he'd rather pretend that it never happened. That little fucker. Nick, huh? There's not much he can really do about it seeing as how that's his boss's little brother. Michael wouldn't be very happy to find out that Dean nearly beat him half to death. But he's also positive that Michael wouldn't be proud of his brother for leading on a fragile kid such as Sam. Probably make him apologize or something. It's too late for that now. The damage is done. Dean doesn't know how this will effect Sam's relationship with the others, but time will tell.

He worries about his boy as they curl up together on the couch watching all manner of horror movies. Sam's always been his boy ever since he took him from that burning house. He's always been his responsibility, no matter what. That's why he took it so hard when Sam was attacked by their father. Dean felt stupid back then. How could he not see this coming? The excessive drinking around Sam's Sixteenth Birthday, the lingering glances. They were right there! But he ignored them. It wasn't until he was too late to realize what a monster John was.

Sam is Dean's entire world. If John had succeeded in plunging that knife in him, then Dean would've lost everything. He would've killed John and then himself. Without Sam there's nothing. He loves him with everything that he has. Dean could say that, in a very, very,  _very_ fucked up way, he's in love with his younger brother. His Sammy. It's so wrong, but it's all he's thought about since the year prior. The way he smiles when he tells a joke, his laugh. Everything about the young man is beautiful. His hair, his lips, everything.

Dean knows that Sam would do anything and everything for him, same way around. There's been times that he fantasized about using that to his advantage, but then he shoves those horrific thoughts back down from where they come from. He'd never take advantage of his brother, no matter how desperate he is. He can get sex from anyone he wants to, but he doesn't want some strange slut to fuck. He wants his Sammy, something that he'll never have. Dean won't be like John. He won't...

Sam passed out sometime during the middle of The Exorcist, one of his favorites. Dean noticed because Sam's head fell right into his crotch, face and all. The boy wakes up fast, seemingly unaware that his face was right near his brother's dick and balls. Dean's frozen, still trying to process what just happened. This isn't helping him with his feelings towards Sam. Not at all. His manhood reacts at the brief contact, causing him to get up and turn off the TV.

"Come on, Sam." Dean hides his embarrassment by smirking. "Time for bed. You were practicality drooling on me."

"I...wussn't..." Sam yawns.

He can't even form proper words right now. He's definitely tired and it's very cute. Sam's like a little puppy that you have to take care of every second of the day because if you don't, he'll cry and be lonely. Dean won't ever leave him alone again. Never. The two hours that separate them by work and school can't be helped at the moment. In that short time frame, Sam could be in some kind of trouble. Dean hates to think like that, but it just happens. He knows that he worries about Sam too much. He can't help that.

Dean ignores Sam's response, proceeding to lift him up bridal style in his arms. Sam doesn't protest, though it's clear that he wants to walk on his own. Not if Dean can help it. He wants Sam to rely on him for everything. It's selfish. He doesn't care. No one has what he and his brother has. Dean wants to think that their relationship is familial, brotherly and romantic rolled into one, even if the romance is one-sided. Sam wouldn't want him.

He's a womanizer, occasionally going after a guy or two. He only does this to try and get over his rediculous and disgusting crush on his baby brother. It's not normal to think like this. Dean can never act on it. He has to keep Sam safe, even from himself. It's his job. A job that he'll continue doing until the day he dies. No harm will come to Sam again under his watchful eyes. Dean doesn't bother to take off his clothes when they reach his room, Sam doesn't either.

They get into the bed together, fully clothed minus Sam's shoes and Dean's work boots. They'd have to shower tomorrow, Dean thinks. He successfully wills his erection away when he starts thinking about Sam, naked and wet like last night. This time, he doesn't have the towel to protest his modesty. He just sits there, waiting for Dean to touch him. Dean hates himself for even thinking about it. As Sam sleeps, he tries to roll over to be a little further from him so he doesn't do something that he'll regret. Sam, still asleep, reaches over to pull himself back into Dean's arms. Apparently, he finds this comfortable...and so does Dean. 

* * *

Waking up, Dean finds that Sam isn't anywhere to be found. He starts panicking, jumping out if bed to find him. First, he checks Sam's room to find it empty. The bathroom too. He goes downstairs, skipping two at a time. Just as he's about to shout out his boy's name, he sees him at the kitchen table. He's eating cereal and reading a book about whales. His hair is damp and he's dressed in a different attire from last night; he took a shower. Sam looks up at his brother as the morning sun shines through the window behind him. He's truly beautiful.

Sam blushes when Dean stares at him for too long, going back to his food and book. It's just like him to be so nerdy. He has to know everything about everything. This week seems to be about whales. Hopefully, next week's book won't be about werewolves. Dean really hates them, even if they're not real. Vampires too. Actually, all different types of scary monsters. He doesn't think that they're scary, but he just doesn't like them. It's because of John. He was a Mythology Professor at the college near here, so he usually would tell Sam and Dean about different creatures. Screw John. He's not here and he's never coming back.

Dean puts on one of his false masks of cockiness, ruffling Sam's hair. It's comforting. "Hey, Squirt. Neatly scared me half to death when I couldn't find you."

"Sorry..." Sam says quietly. "I tried to wake you up, but you just mumbling my name. It was a miracle that I even escaped from your death embrace on me..."

Thinking back, Dean remembers that he was having a dream of Sam. A very...unorthodox dream of him. It involved Sam, of course, a bed, apple pie and the band Kansas. To be completely honest, he doesn't remember most of it, save for the part when Dream Sam bit his lip right before he kissed him. Sweet Jesus, he needs professional help or he's gonna molest his brother. That was too dark and he scolds himself for even thinking of that joke in his head. It's severely insensitive. Thankfully, it was all in his head.

"Hey," Sam sounds excited. "Did you know that a blue whale's heart is the size of a small car? Or that it can fit a hundred people inside of it's mouth!? Oh my god! That's incredible!"

It fills Dean's sick heart with joy to see Sam so fascinated by something so simple. He's finding distractions for himself, very smart. But as much as he's liking this, Dean doesn't intend for Sam to stay inside all day reading. It's pretty boring if you ask him. He has nothing against it, it's just that...well, John. He keeps blaming shit on John and while it's a good outlet, it solves nothing. He knows this. Everything that reminds him of John gets under his skin. It was kinda hard to even get through one of the Dracula films last night.

But regardless of it all, Dean's grateful that John managed to get something right and that's Sam. The boy who, despite everything, remains cautiously optimistic that he can see the world in a new light again. It gives Dean hope that maybe he'll get out of here one day, to travel the world, with him obviously. Maybe meet a nice guy. He's sure that Sammy will never choose him; he's probably not into incest. These feelings are becoming an intense thorn in his side for sure.

"I honestly don't know how to deal with this information." Dean chuckles, grabbing a bowl to put his cereal in. "Where'd you get that book anyway? I didn't see you pack that at Bobby's."

"I..." Sam freezes. "I...went into  _his_ old study. There's tons of books just sitting there so...so I just thought--"

"It's alright, Sammy." Dean pours the milk over his cereal, taking huge spoonfuls into his mouth. It muffled his speech a little. "No neef to expraif."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Dean." Sam scolds him like he's the older brother. It's cute.

"You're not the boss of me, Sam. I'm the boss!"

"Then you should act like it." The boy smiles as he goes back to his book. "Do you work today?"

"Nope. I have the weekends off so you're stuck with me all weekend long. How do you feel about us heading out into town today? I could show you around my job and shit. How bout it?"

Dean already knew the answer. Sam's an easy book to read. No pun intended. There's no place that either of them would be rather than by each other's side. They were basically glued to the hip when they were younger; Dean took Sam everywhere he went, going on little adventures together. The closeness between them carried over into their teenage years, doing everything together. Sometimes--or all of the time actually--Dean would blow off plans with his buddies to hang out with Sam.

That's how special he is. No one else comes remotely close to it. By definition, Sam's  _his_ property. And Dean knows that it makes him sound like an absolute pervert, but it's how he kinda feels. Sam's life has always been his ever since he took him from the fire. And he'll keep on protecting him from the metaphorical fire that threatens his memories and mind. Instead of focusing on the shitty stuff, Dean focuses on the bright smile Sam's giving get to him, nodding at his terrific plan for the day.

* * *

They hadn't planned on stopping at the store, but Sam made an off hand comment about him being a little thirsty. Dean, wanting to keep his boy satisfied, bought him a bottle of Pepsi from a small market. He'd do anything for the kid. He would kill others if he told him to. That's how strong his love is. It's sick. It's toxic and Sam's unknowing of this. He can't ever know of this. There's no telling how he'd react to finding out that his older brother wants to ravage him until he forgets everything. He'd probably never talk to him again. That's understandable.

Dean did exactly what he told Sam he was going to do. He took him to his job, showing him where he works on cars. Michael was there too, greeting Sam warmly. He's not a warm person though. Michael is a stoic bastard, rarely showing anyone a smile or anything. It changes so suddenly when Sam's introduced into the picture. The boy blushes when Michael refers to him as "Dean's cute Little Brother". He even tries to convince him to come here on the weekends because there's little to no eye candy around. It was meant as a joke and Sam took it as such. Dean didn't.

In his mind, Dean screams. He makes an excuse about them having to go to the movies, quickly ushering the two of them out of the door and into the car. Sam, who's excited about seeing a movie, questions Dean about what it is. The man says it's a surprise, though he has absolutely no idea. He just had to get Sam away from there before Michael made a wrong move on him. He doesn't want to murder his new boss. Michael's an okay guy. Minus that little incident.

They arrive at the movie theater soon. Dean makes a quick scan of the movies showing, unimpressed at the lineup. Deciding quickly, he picks one of the random action movies that are out now, grabbing Sam's hand as they walk to the building. A woman passing by swoons, mistaking them for a beautiful couple. Dean, playing along, kisses Sam's cheek and walks on. The boy doesn't say anything as Dean pays for the tickets; his cheeks are gonna stay red forever if he doesn't stop blushing. It's very cute though.

The best part about the movies--in Sam's opinion--is the previews. Dean can agree with him on that too, though sometimes the movies that are being teased look like they're garbage. That one superhero movie that they saw a few month ago was completely trash, but Sam still had a good time. During the movie, Dean unconsciously puts an arm around Sam's shoulders, like he's his date. He retracts his arms as if he's been burned, digging into the popcorn bowl. Thankfully, Sam doesn't notice this. Even if he did, he doesn't say anything about it. He just continues to smile.

* * *

After the film, Dean took them around the town for a few hours as they still had tons of time to kill. They went home later. Sam went in the basement to look for something, coming back with some old boardgames and a big cookbook. He tells him that they'll play later and that right now, Dean needs to learn how to make a proper dinner. He sighs because his brother is so adorable. He just wants to pin him against that refrigerator and kiss him deeply. But he doesn't, instead snagging the cookbook from Sam's grasp. If he wants him to cook, fine. He'll cook, but he'll cook what he wants.

Dean flips through the pages as Sam looks through the boardgames that he brought up. There's a lasagna recipe that doesn't look to hard to make. Also pasta that seems easy to whip up. Dean loves pasta. And burgers. And pie. He  _really_ loves pie. Deciding on it, Dean picks the pasta, searching the cabinets for ingredients. That housekeeper did end up coming in the one day; Dean let her go. He didn't need her here. It sounds harsh, but it's not they way he said it. She gave up her key and left silently. He didn't even get her name.

Surprisingly, Dean finds that every ingredient listed on the page is here in this house. That makes his job so much easier. As he prepares, he sneaks glances at Sam. His kid is reading the manual of some game, Monopoly it looks like. He tucks his hair behind his ears like usual. Dean wants to do that for him, but would it be too intimate? Nah. It'd be okay. He goes back to chopping up the garlic as the book says, silently wondering if things will be different this time around. It has to be now that John's out of the picture. It has to be...

* * *

Dinner, to Sam and Dean's shock, was an absolute success. Dean made a joke about him cooking pasta from now on for every meal. Sam doesn't appreciate the joke, rolling his eyes. He suggests that everyday should be a new recipe and that it wouldn't only be fun, but it'd be a great learning experience for him. There he goes again, being so fuckin cute for no reason. How can he do this? Doesn't he know what this does to Dean? It's driving him crazy. He's so smart that he can hold a conversation with anyone about anything. Dean can't do that, he doesn't think that he's smart enough.

When dinner is all done, Sam helps him wash the dishes, drying them and putting them up afterwards. It feels domestic, like an old couple. After that, they fiddle with the boardgames, looking them over. Dean hasn't played Monopoly in the longest time, but that's not what Sam's interested in. He shows Dean something that they thought were long gone. Something that John had owned. His old Ouija Board. Immediately, Dean frowns, declining to take part in this. Sam, however, proves to be very persuasive and they do it anyway.

He proclaims this as harmless fun as the boy really doesn't believe in ghosts or monsters. Dean doesn't either, but it's still creepy. Sam turns out the lights, save for the one in the kitchen. He and Dean sit at the table, each with their hands on the planchette that spells out words. It feels weird doing this. It feels like old times though, when they were just kids playing with their father's stuff. They were both so clueless about John, what he could do, how dangerous he could become. The words he said that night. Dean wonders if that's how his father really felt about Sam his whole life.

"Do you remember how to play?" Sam asks quietly.

Dean shrugs. "It's been a while. We used to only do this with...with John."

"Yeah." The boy sighs. "So, the rules. Never play alone, never antagonize the spirit and  **ALWAYS** say goodbye."

"That's it?"

"That's the gist of it. There's more, but I don't feel like telling you about the complexities of it."

"What if my brain gets, I don't know, invaded by evil spirits or something? I need to know, dammit."

Sam scoffs, shaking his head. "Dean, it's okay. Just do what I do, alright? Just clear your mind. That's usually the first step. Keep it guarded, but open. Treat this seriously."

Dean listens to everything that Sam has to say. This is crazy. He's actually about to contact the spirits of the dead with his baby brother. What kind of bullshit is this!? He goes along with it though because Sam wants to do this. He'll fake it just so he can have a good time with this. And to also freak Sam out a bit. It'll be funny for sure. He can't help it, that's how he is. Sam clears his throat, looking up to the ceiling. Dean does the same thing.

"Are there any spirits with us here tonight?" Sam asks. When nothing happens, he tries again. "Is there someone here with us?"

"I don't think the spirits like us, Sammy." Dean jokes.

After a couple more seconds, the planchette under their fingertips moves suddenly. As Dean had anticipated, it makes Sam a little uncomfortable. But that's not all. It makes him a little jumpy too because he didn't even touch the damn thing. Again, the planchette moves, guiding their fingers to one word near the edge of the board: Yes. Needless to say, Dean immediately takes his hand off of the object, standing up and throwing his hands in the air. That is not what he signed up for! Not at all!

"Fuck that." He says. "I won't do it. I can't do it."

"Dean..." Sam asks slowly, nervous. Maybe scared too. "Did...did you do that? Did you make the planchette move?"

"What? No! I didn't. Did you?"

"No! I--I don't know what happened."

"Say Goodbye to the damn thing. You have to say Goodbye now, Sam."

"I can't." The boy explains. "You have to do it with me. I can't play alone."

This entire situation is getting out of control fast and they've only just started. Usually, Sam would say that there's a logical explanation for this, but he hasn't said anything thus far. Even he can't fathom what just transpired on that Ouija Board. If there's a spirit or spirits in their house, then they need to leave right the fuck now. Dean reluctantly sits back down in his seat, placing his hands back onto the planchette, staring into Sam's eyes.

He's afraid, just as his brother is afraid. Dean wants to put a stop to this just so he can embrace his Sammy. To tell him that nothing is going to go wrong and that he'll always be there to help him through anything. Dean imagines that when he does, Sam will melt like butter in his arms. God, if he keeps this up, he'll jump over the table and just pounce him. He doesn't. Against his wishes, Sam asks one final question to the spirit.

"What's your name?" Sam questions. "I...I wanna know your name."

The planchette moves again on its own accord towards individual letters. Sam locks eyes with Dean to prove that he's not doing this while simultaneously looking at what the planchette is spelling. He's fucking spooked, but it's okay. Dean is too. The boy reads the message out loud; he's terrified. They both are. They've never encountered something like this when they did it with John. It was the man that fooled them into thinking that they were actually talking to a ghost. But he isn't here now.

"M...A...N...Y...N...A...M...E...S. Many names?"

"Sam!" Dean yells. "Now! Say Goodbye now!"

The teen obeys and the both of them guide the planchette to the Goodbye sign in bold writing. Dean doesn't know if the spirit has left, but he'd like to think so. After that, he stands up and takes the board and planchette, dumping them both into the garbage. He turns on the lights and leans against the counter, arms crossed across his chest. He's not happy with this. Not one bit.

"We should talk about this..." Sam hangs his head, whispering. "We need to--"

"No, we don't." Dean interrupts. "It was...it was us doing it and we didn't even know. That's all...just some psychological game that we used on ourselves."

"But, De--"

"Enough, Sam! God, just fucking drop it, okay!?"

He doesn't realize it until it's too late that he's yelled at his boy, his life. Sam flinches, sinking in on himself. Fuck. When Dean attempts to get close to him, the young man gets up quickly, going up the stairs and to his room. The door shuts delicately. Dean just stands there, feeling like shit. He's pushed him away, something that he has never done. He didn't mean it though. He's stressed out! Everything is stressful.

Dean turns out the lights again, heading up to Sam's room. The lights are off, but he can see that Sam is in the bed, curled up. Dean doesn't go all the way in, only opening the door to say sorry. He goes to his own room, stripping out of his clothes. He stares at the picture of him and Sam on his nightstand. It was taken right before the attack on Sam's birthday. He looks so happy there, staring at the camera. In the picture, Dean's looking down at his brother, fondness in his eyes. He didn't have a clue then, that he would fall for Sam.

Later that night, as Dean tries to fall asleep for the fifth time, he hears his door open quietly. He stays still, pretending to be sleeping. He feels the blankets around him lift as a figure smaller than himself curls around him like a goddamn octopus. He turns and embraces Sam, tucking the boy's head under his chin. It feels right. Maybe. It has to be right if it feels this good. Dean apologies silently to his boy, kissing the top of his head. Soon, they're both asleep. Dean's grateful that, despite knowing that whatever he feels for Sam is wrong, he's gifted with his presence anyway.


	5. Share The Sunshine Young Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam returns to school on Monday. Things happen. 
> 
> Bad things.

Things are already looking to be better than they were on Friday. Dean took Sam out again yesterday to some beautiful museum in the city. It was wonderful honestly. It's like he knows everything about him and that only adds fuel to the burning crush that he has for him. After that, they went out to lunch at a local restaurant. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was nice. Sam saw Castiel there; he was their waiter. He introduced the two of them to each other, though he could tell that Dean was very apprehensive about it. He's not exactly trusting towards the Milton clan, even if Cas doesn't share their last name.

Sam understands. His brother's just looking after him, trying his hardest to make sure that he's not gonna get hurt again. It still hurts, what Nick did to him. Sam genuinely thought he was liked, but no. Nick just led him on and crushed away all hope of him becoming more than himself. This was supposed to be his year, his year of branching out to become a newer, more better version of himself. Nope. Usually, he'd forgive something like this, but it feels different now.

He can't forgive Nick for what he's done. He doesn't want to. He hates him, wants him to hurt, to have his heart ripped out through his mouth while he watches. He wants to watch the lights leave Nick's eyes as he realizes that the next breath that he's taking will be his last. Sam stops himself from going too far about it. Where is this coming from? This vengeful way of thinking? It's sort of getting worse now. It's scary. Just like the Ouija Board from the other night. He can't get that moment out of his head. Sam couldn't fake that if he tried, regardless of what Dean said.

There was someone there with them. No, not someone. There was  _something_ and Sam felt it and he's positive that Dean did too. Why else would he act that way? And that message. What could that mean? "Many Names?" What kind of names? It gives Sam the creeps because they had just watched The Exorcist the night before. Ouija Boards are portals into the spirit realm, and perhaps beyond that. It sounds rediculous, but Sam's only going by what he's read and the lore of the game, if you can call it a game. It wasn't fun and no one was laughing.

Before they left that diner, Castiel apologized for his brother's behavior, saying that he hasn't been acting the same sense. He's even dropped out to do "other things". Whatever that means. When Sam and Dean visited the garage, Michael confirmed that Nick had indeed dropped out and had set out on his own a few states over. He expressed his concern for his little brother, but Nick's Eighteen so it's his call. Their father supposed the decision though, even if Michael didn't. According to Cas, Nick wanted him to tell Sam that he was really sorry.

If he was really sorry, he wouldn't have rejected him like he did. He made a fool out of the boy in the worst way. It was extremely humiliating. And it was in his own house no less. Even though Sam nodded, saying that he accepts the apology, he doesn't. Nick's not even here to deliver it himself. What kind of bullshit is that!? So no, Sam won't forgive him for the heartache. And he damn sure won't forgive himself for putting himself out there. It's just better to stick with what he knows. He has a lot to talk about with Matt.

Sam smiles when he thinks of his guidance counselor. The guy is always cracking a joke or two, causing the boy to forget most of his problems. One problem I'm particular is the fact that while his crush on Nick has disappeared completely, his crush on Matt grows a little more each day. It's sad shit, but it happens. Same with Dean too. Sam's hormones are wildly out of control. He can just barely keep it together. It's making him a little stressed out; thinking of the Ouija Board incident doesn't help. It has him questioning whether or not his father knew about such things...

* * *

After Dean drops him off at school, Sam goes right to homeroom. In the halls, he hears the students whispering again. Truth be told, it's getting kind of annoying. Why should it matter that his dad raped him? Or almost plunged a knife into his chest? It shouldn't matter. It dawns on Sam soon that he actually acknowledges that the word he chose was rape and not any other substitution for it. Something is seriously off here.

He gets into the class, sitting at his usual desk. Everything is the same, the only difference is that Nick is absent, and will be forever. Without being asked or prompted, Gabriel tells Sam that it's likely that Nick is off doing what he always loved: Writing. Sam doesn't care. He only smiles and nods. Why should he care? His heart has been torn to shreds. The only way to get over it, is to accept it and move on. He's trying to be a good person about it now, but he's finding it hard to let it go when that unexpected rage bubbles inside of him again.

* * *

Lunch was alright. He sat with Jessica, Brady, Castiel and Gabriel for the first half, then went over to Matt's table. The guy was excited, eager even, to see him. Sam, to some extent, was also very excited to speak with him. He gets giddy around him, almost embarrassingly so. There's something mysterious about Matt that attracts Sam. What could it be? His charm? His intellect? It can be any one of those. Or it could be none of them.

As usual, Sam follows Matt back to his office, dropping his backpack next to him as he sits in the chair. Matt takes his post behind his desk, setting his coffee thermos down upon it. He takes off his glasses, winking at Sam before setting them up above his head. The teen blushes because he knows that Matt is only teasing him. It's cute, but Sam hopes that there's a boundary here somewhere. As he pounders this, Matt starts talking. His voice is so smooth.

"So, first things first, how was the date? Tell me everything. Don't leave out any details about it either."

Sam's smile fades immediately. "There...there wasn't any date."

"What?" Matt gasps. "Why not?"

"He came to my house that night looking terrible, like he was in a fight. He...he said that he didn't like me. That he wanted be just friends. But how can he when he's gone!?"

"Gone?"

"His brothers said that he left town to be on his own. I'm so confused, Matt. I thought that Nick really liked me. I really liked him! I put myself out there only to become a victim again." Sam starts to sob. "I'm...I'm trying not to close myself off again, but I can't help it. I want to be different. I want to be...liked."

"I like you, Sam." Matt smiles, getting up to kneel in front of him. "I like you a lot."

"Yeah, but that's not what I mean." Sam laughs. It's a wet laugh, full of small tears. "I thought I'd be liked as a friend, and maybe later as a boyfriend. I'm so stupid. No one wants me. Not even Dean."

The words slip right out before Sam could catch them. There it is. The truth. He's said it out loud and now it's real. His eyes go wide and Matt just looks at him, face neutral. Sam can't tell what he's thinking, but he's sure that he doesn't want to. Matt's smart enough to make sense of what he's just confessed to. It'd take an idiot to not understand. However, Matt isn't an idiot. He's far from it. Sam is positive that his guidance counselor probably thinks of him as some kind of deviant. 

Matt shakes his head. "Sam, do you...are you in love with your brother?" The boy's face turns red, refusing to answer the question. "If you are then you know that it's wrong, correct? To feel such things for your own family, it's..."

"Sick?" Sam deadpans.

"Not what I was going to say." Matt sighs, patting Sam's knee. "It isn't my place to judge. You can't help who you're attracted to...like me."

"Who...are you attracted to?"

Smirking, Matt answers. "Just some gangly student with major daddy issues. I want him so fucking bad, but I know that if I try to get him, bad things will happen."

Everything starts spinning as Sam is lifted from his seat an onto the floor harshly. Somewhere in his mind, he knows that something wrong is happening to his body. That Matt isn't what he seems as the man begins to remove his light blue dress shirt. Sam can't understand why he's doing this; he doesn't want Matt like this. He doesn't want to do this, but his body freezes.

Matt leers down at Sam as he unbuckles his pants. "But I can't resist you any longer...and I'll just have to take what I want."

* * *

Dean pulls up to the driveway, huge grin that threatens to split his entire face open. He's very happy to be home, to be off of work. All he wants to do is kick his feet up and watch a movie with Sammy. That's all he's thought about all day. Just being with his brother. The kid has been through so much and Dean just wants to help him heal. He'd say that it's starting to work out; what happened on Friday was a minor setback, but Sam's moving forward.

When he gets inside, Dean already knows that something is off. Sam's stuff is on the couch, just sitting there. His homework is laying on the coffee table as well as cold bottle of water; he must've gotten up recently. Dean hears the shower running upstairs. He frowns. It's only Four O'clock in the afternoon. Is he going out or something? He usually showers in the morning or before bed. Dean doesn't think much of it as he sets his keys down. He heads into the refrigerator, going for a beer.

As he unscrews the cap on the cool beverage, he hears the bathroom door open. "Hey, Sammy! I'm home!"

However, Sam doesn't respond. All Dean hears is quick footsteps and the slamming of another door. That's enough to make alarms go off in his head. He takes a quick swig and puts the bottle down on the counter, heading up the stairs. Just as he's about to open the door leading to Sam's room, he hears the lock click on the other side. He's stunned. Dean grips the doorknob, rattling it around when he discovers that yes, the door is indeed locked. He knocks because that's what Sam would want.

"Sam," Dean starts. "Are you okay? Open up."

"I'm fine. Just--Just go away, alright?" Sam says quickly. "I'm...I'm okay."

"Sammy, what's going on? Did something happen at school today?"

"No, okay!? Nothing happened! Just fuck off!"

Dean flinches as if he's been slapped in the face. He might as well have been hit because that was too harsh. Sam's never uttered a curse word in his life. This sudden behavior switch is frightening Dean. He loves Sam so much and he wants to discover what's happening to him. He knows that his brother is lying about his situation and that's not okay. However, he let's it go for now, choosing to instead silently say "I'm sorry" towards the door. Dean slowly goes back down the stairs, feeling bad for some reason. 

* * *

Sam broke down against the door as he heard Dean's heavy footsteps go down the stairs. He tries his hardest to silence his sobs, clasping his hand over his mouth. His skin is red and raw from scrubbing it too hard. He had to. He had to scrub away the events of today. If he could remove his brain, he'd scrub that clean too. It scares Sam to know that Dean found out that something was wrong so quickly. He expected it, actually. Nothing goes past the man so easily.

What Matt did to him today...words cannot even begin to describe it. He made Sam relieve the horrors of years past, awakening the deep and hidden memories of that night. The words his own father said to him can never be unheard. How long had he thought of him like that? Ever since he was born? No, it had to be shortly before the traumatic event because he was acting normally up until them. He was clearly drunk that night, it wouldn't surprise him if John had managed to consume three bottles of whiskey. It was his favorite.

Sam's tears slide down his cheeks as he sinks to the floor, soaking wet. He regrets it as massive pain shoots up into his rectum. He can't suppress the cry that comes out of his mouth this time. It's loud enough for Dean to hear; he storms back up the stairs to pound on Sam's door, demanding entry. As Dean continues to slam his hands on the door, Sam continues to bawl with his face in his hands. He can't let Dean know. He can never know what's happened to him. It's better if he stays silent. The situation will rectify itself. It has to. It has to...


	6. Shatter Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam continues to hide the truth from Dean. 
> 
> Dean becomes increasingly worried about his brother, forcing him to do something crazy.

He won't go to school today. Sam's locked himself in his room, refusing to speak with Dean or even eat breakfast. He knows that he's not being fair, but he can't tell Dean what's going on. His brother won't just be pissed, he'll be furious, storming down to the school to commit murder. Sam won't let him do that. He needs his brother here with him. Without him, he has absolutely nothing. Bobby's nice and all, but he's  _not_ family, no matter who he is. Once again, his attitude suddenly spikes . What's happening to him? This all started getting worse when he and Dean fiddled with that fucking Ouija Board.

John had always warned them not to play with stuff like that without his guidance. Too bad. They did it, but Sam kinda regrets it. He knows what he felt that night. There was an unearthly presence in the kitchen with him and Dean. All Sam knows is that it has many names. He wants to discover more, but he knows the rules. He can't play alone with the Ouija Board. Sam's not sure if he wants to take that risk. If he inadvertently unleashes a dark spirit upon his family, he'll never forgive himself for that.

Whatever happens can't be worse than what Mr. Carson can do to him. The man made it clear that he wants Sam, with or without his consent, but something was wrong with him as he said it. He looked...scared, frightened even. It's weird because Sam's the one that should've felt afraid. Matt was anything but gentle if the after effects were any indication. It felt absolutely terrible to be taken against his will again. Devastating. He felt everything. Every little touch, every single pinch and thrust. At first, he tried to block it all out by thinking of Dean, but that only made it worse.

Sam sits on his bed, wondering if Dean believed his short lie about not feeling well. He probably did, even if it's a half truth. He doesn't feel well, he feels awful. For the second time in his short life, he's been raped, forced to have sex with another. The only difference is that he didn't struggle as he did with John. He only froze; there wasn't much that he could do. Scream? No, because for that one moment in time, he didn't know how to. He locked himself away in his own mind where Matt couldn't violate him.

As he continues to sulk, Sam hears the doorbell ring. He initially ignores it, deciding that whoever it is will go away eventually. However, the bell rings constantly. It irritates Sam to no end. He gets up frustrated, storming down the stairs. When he opens the door, he immediately regrets it. There, standing in front of him, is Matt, grinning from ear to ear. It's a devious grin and it promises trouble. He invites himself in, taking advantage of Sam's shocked state.

"Skipping school, Samuel?" Matt questions as he shuts the door, locking it afterwards. "That's not a good idea. Trying to escape me?"

Sam scuttled away, back hitting a wall. He's scared. "P--Please...why? Why are you doing this? I don't understand..."

Matt stalks forward with a dangerous look in his eyes. It's predatory.  _He's_ predatory. Sam lets the tears fall free this time. He has no choice. There's nothing that he can do to make this better. Soon, the man steps into his space, harshly grabbing the teen's hips. Sam stifles a pained groan. It hurts there too. So many bruises and marks litter his body under his clothes. He's baffled that Matt had the audacity to come into his house to do this.

"You're just so... _pure_!" Matt states. "If you are truly his son, then he'd save you right here, right now. He would've done the same yesterday, as a matter of fact. Looks like he won't be rescuing you after all."

What!? John? What does any of this have to do with John? Matt seems to be implying something, but Sam's kinda lost on what that could possibly be. Is he suggesting that John may or may not be his biological father? There's so many questions, but before Sam could ask any of them, Matt backhands him with brutal force. He ends up on the floor, grunting in pain. He want to know why Matt is doing this, but he can't seem to form the words to ask.

Pure? Yeah, he's anything but pure. John made sure of that. Sam doesn't want to think of him right now, even if what's happening to him is similar to what John did. The key word is similar. John didn't hit him, only restrained him. But Matt didn't try to kill him afterwards, so what's going on!? Some part of Sam wants Dean to come through the front door, to obliterate Matt into nothing. The other part just wants this all to stop without Dean's presence, to handle this peacefully. However, he see that neither of those things are going to happen.

"Nice house." Matt chuckles as he removes his jacket, tossing it on the couch. "And to think that you were almost murdered here."

"Please..." Sam sobs. "Please stop...I won't tell anyone...just don't--don't do it again."

"Do what, Samuel?" Matt sinks down to the floor, his hand slipping into Sam's shorts to circle around the teen's rim. "Do  _this_? But your body was so responsive last time. Practically begging for me. Remember that?"

It hurts. Having that spot messed with hurts a lot. He's still sore from yesterday. He doesn't want to believe Matt. There's no way that his body loved it. But then again, he wouldn't know. Sam blanked out for most of it so there could be some truth to what this pervert is saying. It could be a lie, but it could also be the truth. There's really no telling right now. There's only pain. Matt smiles as Sam tries to scramble away again; he takes his hand away to his pants, grabbing Sam by the hair. He picks him up and carts the both of them upstairs.

Sam notices that he's going past his and Dean's rooms. Matt kicks open the door at the end of the hall; John's old bedroom. There's no sheets on the mattress, similar to how it was before Sam and Dean came into their own rooms. Matt throws Sam on the bed without much warning, taking off his own clothes quickly. Sam doesn't look. He doesn't want to. He feels Matt's hands wandering around on his body, removing his shorts. The boy only cries because he's too weak to do anything else. He can feel everything that's happening to him; Matt chuckles as Sam whimpers.

"You're gonna be silent on me again? I don't think so. I'm gonna make you scream." He did just that as he forced himself inside of Sam without any preparation. "Yes! See? I told you. I wanna hear more."

The pain is unimaginable. It sort of feels worse than the first time. Maybe it's because he's present mentally instead of retreating into his mind. Sam can't seem to escape no matter how hard he tries. The burning in his backside is too strong for him to imagine anything else and Matt's herculean grip on him forces him to be compliant through it all. The thrusts are jagged and unpleasant, like he knows that doing it just like that is very painful for Sam. There's probably tearing down there and he wouldn't be too surprised to learn that there might also be a bit of blood too.

There wasn't much blood with John. Perhaps because he actually had the decency to prepare Sam for entry. That memory had burned a hole in his brain for so long. It makes him sick just thinking about it. He's assuming that Matt had always planned for this to happen between them. Sam can't deny that he had thought of Matt, but it was only in a romantic sense. He never dreamed that he'd be pinned down and taken advantage of by the only other man who had shown him immense kindness. It was all a lie and Sam's heart breaks a little more when Matt says his name. The name that only Dean can call him.

"You're so tight, Sammy."

* * *

It grates Dean's nerves. The way that his boy has been acting recently. Sam never holds back on his feeling, especially not towards his own brother. What's going on with him? On his lunch break, Dean decides to use the shop's phone to call home. He needs to check in. When he calls, no one answers. This causes him to worry. He informs Michael of his situation; his boss understands completely, excusing him for the rest of the day. Dean quickly hops in his car, speeding down the street towards home.

When he gets to the driveway, he sees another car parked in front of their house. It's a nice Lexus. What the hell? As Dean exits the car, the front door opens and out steps a man that he's never seen before. He smiling as Sam sees him off. The boy isn't exactly smiling either; he's faking it. Dean knows. He shuts the car door, getting the attention of the grinning man and Sam. He speed walks up the path, meeting with the pair.

"Good Afternoon, Mr. Winchester." The man smiles, extending his hand for a shake. "I'm Samuel's guidance counselor, Matthew Carson."

Dean looks at the offered hand suspiciously. This guy was in  _his_ house alone with  _his_ boy. He pockets his hands. "Just Dean, thanks. Nice to meet you, Mr. Carson. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just dropping off some school work. Isn't that right, Sam?"

"Y--Yeah..." He confirms silently.

There's something off about this. Dean just nods towards Mr. Carson and makes his way in the house to stand next to Sam. He tries to wrap an arm around him, but he shrugs it off, heading into the kitchen. That's odd. Sam never shies away from his touches. What's wrong with him? He'll have to ask soon because this is too fucking much. He hears Matt laugh and that causes him to frown. Dean crosses his arms.

"Something funny, Mr. Carson?"

"No, nothing at all, Dean." The fucker just smirks. "I'm just thinking about how Sam is a good kid. Too good. Maybe even for this world. You should keep an eye on him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Have a lovely day, Dean."

With that, Matt walks down the path to his car. Dean watches as he starts it up and drives away. He's getting nothing but bad vibes from this guy and, for reasons that he's unsure of, he wants Sam to stay far away from him. Dean shuts the door then and looks for Sam in the kitchen. He's not there. Already, the boy managed to slip by and up the stairs. Dean sighs, kicking off his work boots. He goes upstairs to Sam's room. He's not surprised to find that the door is locked again.

"Sammy," Dean mumbles, knocking on the door. "Open the door please."

There's no noise on the other side.

"Sam, come on. Open up."

Nothing.

"Sam? Will you please open the door?"

Silence.

"Sammy! Just open the goddamn door. I can pick the lock and you know I can! You have until the count of three. One...two..."

"Okay..." He hears Sam whispers. 

Soon enough, the lock clicks and the door swings open. Sam's wearing a hoodie that partially covers his face. It's not that cold, so why is he wearing that? When Dean attempts to remove the hood, Sam recoils, shaking his head. He inches away from his brother, going to sit on his bed. Dean follows him into the room; he's so confused right now and it's not even funny. There's something wrong with his boy and he intends on funding out what. Dean sits next to Sam who keeps his head down.

"Why didn't you wanna go to school today?" Dean asks sternly.

Sam's hands ball into fists on his pants. "Because...I wasn't feeling well."

"Don't bullshit me, Sammy. I'm fucking serious as a goddamn heart attack. I want the truth and I want it now. Why weren't you in school today?"

"I--I already told you...!"

"No, you're lying!" Dean's patience is running out fast. He lowers his voice when Sam jumps a little. "Just...just tell me what's wrong. I can fix it."

"There's nothing wrong. Even if there was...you couldn't fix it."

"Why the hell not?" Dean sighs.

"Because--just forget about it. Leave me alone please. I...I don't really feel like talking. I wanna be alone." Sam says, pulling the hood closer to his face.

Dean's patience has finally drained. Without hesitation, he swiftly pulls the hoodie down. He has the overwhelming urge to kill someone or something right now. He sees a big welt right below Sam's left eye. It looks to be bleeding slightly; the skin is a bit broken. He tries to put the hood back on, but it's too late. Dean's already seem the damage. He has many questions for Sam, though if he's being honest with himself, he knows that he'll get no answers whatsoever.

"Who did this to you...?" Dean's tone is menacing. He's about ready to go to jail for murder. "Sammy, who did this?"

"N--No one!" He squeals. "I fell down the stairs earlier when I went to answer the door. That's...that's all..."

That lie is so bad that it makes Dean even more furious than he already is. It has him questioning if that prick had anything to do with this. That Crowley kid or maybe that counselor guy. No one puts their hands on his kid and gets away with it. There  _will_ be hell to pay and blood spilt when he finds out who did this. He knows that one of those bastards are responsible for making Sam act the way he is.

"Stop lying to me! Please!" Dean begs, eyes watering up. He never cries, not in front of Sam. The only exception was two years ago. "Just tell me who did this. Why are you protecting them?"

"Dean, stop." Sam's also trying to fight back tears. "Just go away! No one did anything. Leave me alone!"

"Don't do this--!"

"GET OUT!"

As Sam screams at him to leave, something strange happens. The mirror on the far side of the room cracks instantly, drawing their attention to it. Dean jumps up, frightened. Sam does too, clutching his brother's arm. What the fuck was that!? They can't both be hallucinating. Two people don't usually hallucinate the same things at the same time. Then he thinks of the Ouija Board. It's no coincidence. There's something dangerous in this house. Something malevolent. An angry spirit.

He knows that it sounds crazy, but that's his only explanation. Dean holds Sam tight, shushing him when he starts to cry. He smooths his hair back, kissing the top of it. He has no choice now. He has to get his answers some kind of way. To Dean, there's only one way to find those answers. He has to do something that he swore not to do, but he needs to know. Sam's not well in this house and he's gonna find out why. As the boy in his arms continues to sob, Dean promises him that he'll be okay. He isn't even fooling himself.

* * *

Sam wakes up in Dean's bed feeling extremely empty. Yesterday was almost a close call. His brother is smarter than he looks, almost looking past his lie. Maybe he did and didn't say anything. He wouldn't put it past him. He soon discovers that Dean is not in the bed with him. When he checks downstairs to see if he's there, the teen comes up short. He notices a note pinned to the fridge by a magnet. It's got Dean's handwriting.

**Sammy,**

**Don't go to school today. Stay home and wait for me. I have to do something really important, so just wait for me downstairs. Eat something please. I love you.**

**Dean**

It's short, but the message is clear. Sam won't listen though. He has to get to school, he doesn't want to miss out on more class work. Matt was obviously lying yesterday when he said that he was dropping off homework. Sam's honestly surprised that Dean never once asked to see such homework. Oh well. Best not to dwell on it. He heads back upstairs and into the shower. He scrubs extra hard today, desperately trying to erase any traces of Matt on his body.

For the third time in his life, he's been raped. Sam can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to live a normal life. He doesn't have one anymore and he can barely remember what one is like. Matt hurt him so bad. There's tearing, as he had previously feared. Sam cleans himself the best that can, wincing in pain as he touches the sore spots on himself. When he's all finished, he goes into his room, finding some clothes to put on. Glancing at the broken mirror, Sam starts to frown.

He felt it again yesterday. Some type of dark presence. It's like a light switch. One minute, it makes itself known. The other minute, it disappears completely. Sam knows that ghosts and spirits and monsters are fictional, but could it be possible that something lives in this house with them? That's the only logical explanation that he's got so far and it's not even very logical. All he knows is that he didn't break the mirror and neither did Dean.

Sam walks back downstairs; the shoulders of his shirt are wet because of his damp hair. He didn't even bother to dry it off. What's the point? He picks up his jacket and backpack, grabbing an apple for the road. If he leaves now without taking any stops, he can be at the school on time. Maybe two or three minutes late. The last thing he thinks about before leaving the house is Dean. He wonders what was so important. Where could he possibly be going this early? Sam doesn't want to know. Not really. He's only curious.

* * *

He ended up making it to homeroom right before the bell rang. Jessica and the others were happy to see him. Gabriel sat in Nick's old seat, casually talking to him about certain things. That is until Ms. Mosley began to scold him for talking during her lesson. They were worried about him, thinking he was sick or something. Might as well have been. Having a cold over being raped is welcomed by Sam. He's gonna sit with them today at lunch.

Matt's table doesn't seem so welcoming anymore. He wants nothing to do with the man, but he has to go back to his office with him during Study Hall or he'll come back to his house and hurt him again. Sam doesn't want that, so he agreed to pay him a visit after lunch. He's in too deep with this man, he knows this. He hates him with everything that he has. Matt has forced himself on him two times already and Sam knows that there'll be a third time this afternoon.

Sure enough, when they step foot in that office after lunch, Matt's all over him. He pushes everything off of his desk, forcefully slamming Sam against it. He feels useless, abused. He's beingused by this man in a building filled with hundreds of people, yet he doesn't scream. Sam doesn't know why, but he sends up a silent prayer for help. He prays for someone to rescue him as his pants are pulled down to his ankles. He prays for help as one buttock is slapped harshly. He prays for the strength of a thousand men.

He prays for Matt to die in agony...

* * *

After hours of driving east, Dean finally makes it to the sanatorium. He swore to himself that he'd never come here, but he supposes that it was inevitable. He gets his visitor sticker and waits patiently in the recreational area for the man he needs to see. Looking around, he notices that there are a lot of crazy people here. Well, it  _is_ a nut house. The patients are dressed in all white scrubs. Some are watching TV while others talk to themselves or piece puzzles together.

Soon, a nurse comes in with the person that Dean came here for. The man looks totally different. His beard is grown out and there's grey hairs littering around it. He looks happy almost, though Dean isn't. He wouldn't even be here visiting the bastard if Sam wasn't in some kind of trouble. He glares at the man, watching his smiling face turn into a sad gaze. Good. He needs to know that Dean hates him.

"Hello, John." Dean hisses.

"Hey, Dean." The man responds. "It's...it's been a long time, Son. Two whole years."

"Yeah...two years."

"How's--?"

"He's good." The blonde grunts through his teeth. "We're good. He's...home. We're back home."

John chuckles. "That's wonderful. Why didn't you bring him?"

"You know damn well why I didn't bring him!" Dean's voice raises a bit, attracting others' attention. He calms himself. "You know why I didn't bring him. You're the reason why he won't look most people in the eye or why he won't date. But I didn't come here for this."

"Then why are you here? To come chat with your old man?"

"No." Dean says simply. "I came to ask you if there's a spirit or something in our house."

The eldest Winchester sighs, leaning forward in his chair. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Sam used the Ouija Board--"

"By himself!?" John's hysterical.

"Of course not! We...used it together. He's been acting strange since then. I'm really worried about him. His behavior is becoming an issue. The Board said that the spirit has many names--"

"Of course..." John interrupts. "I knew I should've killed him that night. Now, he'll doom us all!"

Fuck. John's going completely bat shit crazy. And to say such a thing to Dean's face is a major problem. He refrains from jumping across the table to strangle the man he once called family. It takes a considerable amount of strength to keep himself sane through all of this. Dean would've killed John that night. He didn't because Sam told him not to. But if he hadn't stopped him, he would have murdered his father without a second thought.

"What are you talking about?" Dean growls. "Make sense now."

"Any odd occurrences that happened in that house is  _because_ of Sam, Dean!" John whispers vehemently. "He needs to be destroyed. He's an evil child."

* * *

Matt hasn't actually penetrated him as of yet. He's drawing it out and Sam doesn't know why. He just wants this over and done with. He keeps slipping his cock near his hole; it's sick how he laughs every time Sam groans in pain. The pervert knows that he's causing this boy to suffer, though he could care less. Finally, he stops, grabbing Sam by the hair again and tossing him to the floor.

* * *

"Tell me what you mean by that!"

"Two years ago, I was visited by an angel of the Lord. She came to me in a bright light. She told me about Sam, what he can do. She told me about your brother, my son. He needs to be stopped before anything happens. The Antichrist."

* * *

Sam tries to crawl to the door, but finds it difficult as his pants are around his ankles. Matt grabs him, pulling him back towards him. The boy is on his stomach; the man uses his full weight to pin him down as he forces himself inside of Sam. The hard blast of pain is instantaneous. No matter what he does, he can't seem to escape from Matt. He cries aloud with each hard movement, trying to get someone's attention outside of the office. His efforts are in vain as his screams are muffled.

"Silence, Child of God." Matt chuckles darkly. "No one will save you here. Not Dean, nor your Holy Father. You're all alone here, with me..."

The words that Matt's so casually saying are so familiar. His own father said something similar two years ago, except they were of him being the Antichrist. They're clearly both insane. It just so happens that he's been raped by two mentally ill men who think he's Christ or the Antichrist incarnate. The rage inside of Sam bubbles up, making his eyes fell hot. Suddenly, Matt starts coughing, pulling back from Sam. The boy scrambles away, pulling up his pants as the man before him has his episode.

Matt vomits blood, his face goes red and his veins become visible in his neck. He looks at Sam as he continues to throw up his internal organs. It's sickening to watch so the boy curls into a corner, hiding his face away. Matt vomits once more and then...nothing. Nothing but a soft thud as his body hits the floor. Sam only screams as he gazes upon the body of his former guidance counselor. He knows that someone, somewhere, has answered his prayers. He wonders just who exactly it was...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, big reveal! (STAY TUNED!)


	7. My Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam confesses to Dean. 
> 
> Dean lies about where he's been. 
> 
> Something strange happens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not spell checked this at ALL! (LOL!) Enjoy!

Dean can't unhear what John just said. There's a very distinct reason why he's even in this sanatorium. He's lost his fucking mind in every sense of the word. If he thinks for one moment that he'll believe a single goddamn word about Sam being Satan's evil son, he's got another thing coming. Sam doesn't possess an evil bone in his body, so John's argument makes no sense. It's just not right. It can't be. A ghost in the house makes so much more sense than this.

"John," Dean grunts. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The night before Sam's birthday, an angel came to me. He informed me of the Antichrist, of the specifics. He said that Sam had to be eliminated. That the end times have come and he will cause great harm."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you're sounding right now!? You're fucking rediculous. That job--it made you act this way. I see it's finally taken its toll on you. I'm leaving. I shouldn't have come up here. I knew some bullshit like this would happen. Actually, that's a lie. This shit is too fucking crazy. I'm going home to take care of Sam."

As Dean stands to leave, John grabs his arm. His grip is deadly and his eyes...they're pleading for understanding. "Do not believe his lies. He is a false messiah, the false prophet."

"Let go of me--!"

"He will perform miracles that resemble the work of Christ, but he is a wolf in the guise of a sheep. Beware the false prophet, Dean. Beware the deceiver. You must kill him, save yourself and humanity. He will tear down cities with his might, killing millions of innocents."

"Get off!"

The exchange between father and son was so severe that more than one orderly had to break John away. Dean can only stare in disgust at the deranged man that's being dragged back to his quarters. That man used to be someone that he looked up to. He's so different now, years of studying these mythical and biblical stories has finally warped his brain. Maybe it was always this fragile and his work was just the final straw.

Dean's not entirely convinced, but he knows that John believes that an actual angel had shown himself to him. It can't be true, even if John thinks that it is. Sam isn't the spawn of Satan, that much is definitely certain. As Dean walks out of the building and back to his car, he tries to imagine Sam-- _his_ _little brother_ \--taking over the world. He laughs to himself as he turns the key in the ignition. It's impossible to imagine that, honestly. Sam has potential, just not on  _that_ scale.

* * *

The entire school is in an uproar. The police were called right after Sam ran into the hallway, screaming for his life. It wasn't until he caught up with Ms. Mosley in the hall that people began to take notice. He was hysterical, crying nonstop in her arms as the detectives tried to interview him. He couldn't possibly begin to tell them what happened to Matt. The only thing that he could tell them was that he had raped him prior to dying, revealing the bruises and marks under his clothes.

Ms. Mosley took it the hardest, blaming herself for not noticing that something was wrong. She confessed that Mr. Carson moved into town a week before Sam and Dean did. It's weird, almost as if he knew that they were coming. Sam doesn't share this with them or anything that Matt had said during the rape. He abhors to think about how he was called "Child of God" by his rapist. There's nothing holy about him.

Sam doubts that Jesus Christ was raped by any of his disciples. Matt was very wrong. He's not pure at all and he's positive that everyone around him would agree. For now, he's sitting in the passenger seat of a squad car with one of the detectives, waiting for Dean to come home. It'd be easier if they had cell phones to communicate with each other, but Dean can't afford the just yet. He promised Sam that when he gets his first paycheck, he'd buy them both a phone. That's sweet and convenient.

When Dean's car pulls up to the driveway and exits the vehicle, Sam sprints out of the police cruiser to embrace him. Though shocked, Dean hugs him back, clearly oblivious to the situation. The detective comes up to the blonde, briefly explaining what happened today. It only makes Dean hold onto his boy a little tighter. Sam knows exactly what's going on inside of Dean's mind. He's hurt because Sam lied to him, but he's pissed off more at himself for not doing anything sooner.

After the detective leaves, Sam silently enters the living room, sitting on the couch. He braces himself for the inevitable talk with Dean. Soon, his older brother joins him, gentle hands grab him for another hug. He's crying and he's not even making a show of hiding it. It dawns on Sam then that his brother genuinely cares for him as he's the only one that dones. Everyone else doesn't; he's now incapable of trusting anyone besides his one true best friend. And he'll do anything to make him stay by his side; he knows that Dean will never betray him though.

"Are you ready to tell me, Sammy?" Dean whispers.

"No," Sam responds. "I don't think I'll ever be...but I know that--that I have to tell you, otherwise it'll tear me up inside. What...do you want to know?"

"Everything. From the beginning."

Sam bites his lip. "I met him on the first day of school. Matt was kind to me, always smiling. We had the same interests and...I just thought that he was a good guy. It wasn't until Monday that things went horribly wrong..."

The boy told him everything, as he wanted him to. Dean listened quietly, though there were certain parts of the story where he almost punched something. Sam doesn't blame him. He would too in his shoes. His brother feels like a failure, but he shouldn't. He didn't know because he didn't tell him. When asked why, Sam gives him an honest answer. He didn't want to lose the only family that he has.

"What?" Dean questions.

"Tell me something, Dean. If I had told you what happened right away, what would you have done..?"

"I..." The man pauses. "How could you ask me that...? You know damn well that I would've killed that bastard!"

"Exactly! I didn't want you to do that when I have no one left! I--I didn't tell you because I still need you, De...I need you..."

"Sammy--"

"No!" The boy gets up, desperately trying to wipe away tears; they only continue to fall. "You always do things to protect me or to keep me safe. I was only doing the same! Why can't you let me protect you for once!? Why do you always think that I'm fragile and incapable of doing things on my own!? I only ever wanted to be your equal because that's how it is when you're in love!"

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

That was an accident. Sam covers his mouth, but he finds that it's too late to take back anything that he just said. Dean's eyes are wide open, jaw slacked. Sam's hyperventilating because he's afraid. He had just confessed to something that was a deep, personal secret. It was never ever supposed to come out into the light, forever to stay into the darkness. However, everything's out there now and there's no going back.

When Sam attempts to leave to go upstairs, Dean shoots up from his seat, grabbing his arm. He looks...relieved. That's strange. Why isn't he disgusted? Why is he looking at him like that? With understanding in his eyes? Sam not-so-subtly tries to wrench his arm away, but Dean pulls him close to his chest, staring at him. He's not saying anything which is scaring Sam. But before he can even ask what he's doing, Dean places a feather light kiss to his lips. Oh. That's why. It's...nice. It's better than nice and it was only a soft kiss.

His tummy is filled up with butterflies; he's anxious, happy and scared all at the same time. Dean--his brother, his best friend--just kissed him as he would kiss a lover. Shit like this doesn't happen. Well, neither does getting raped and being told that your either the Christ Child or the Antichrist. It matters not anymore if Dean feels the same way. But it has Sam wondering if he's doing this because he feels the same or if he's doing this just to pacify him. Whatever the truth is, he's just delighted that his secret is out and off his chest.

"What did you say...?" Dean asks.

Sam shivers because Dean's voice is deeper than usual; husky. "I...I said...'That's how it is when--when you're in love'."

"Are you in love with me, Sammy?"

"Dean...please..."

"Because...I've been trying so hard to get over you. I've been dating and having sex with these other guys and girls to forget about how I feel about you. So, I need to know--I need you to say it. Are you...in love with me? I need to answer because--I'm going to hell for this--I'm in love with my baby brother."

"Yes..." Sam whispers softly, putting his face into Dean's shoulder. He's embarrassed. "I'm in love with you...and I know that it's wrong, but I can't help it anymore..."

Dean laughs slightly. "It's okay...we'll figure it out. Together. Can I--Can I kiss you again...? Only if you want to."

Sam nods, removing his face from where he's hiding it. Dean caresses his cheek and licks his lips, going in for the kill. It's much better than the first try, more open mouthed than anything else. It has Sam's legs wobbling. He breaks the kiss to hold onto Dean's shoulders for support. The blonde chuckles, wiping away Sam's ever falling tears with his thumb. He kisses his forehead sweetly, promising to never leave him alone again. Sam knows that he'll leave eventually due to work or something like that, but he gets the gist of what he's saying.

* * *

Dean's on cloud nine right now. He's finally confessed his attraction towards Sam after the boy inadvertently confessed his own. No longer will he have to fuck a stranger just to get his rocks off. He doesn't plan on fucking Sammy because that's just wrong. Sam doesn't deserve to be fucked. He deserves sweet love making as cliché as it might sound. Besides, it's gonna be a while until they get to that stage. Sam's definitely traumatized by what that fucking asshole did to him.

He still wants to wring the fucker's neck. He doesn't care if he's dead, that so called guidance counselor needs to pay for what he's done. The police said that it was a strange death. They've never seen anything like that apparently. The man had vomited up  _all_ of his organs, including his heart. Dean feels bad because he knows that Sam witnessed all of it. He was lucky. Both Sam and Matt. Sam was lucky that he got away. Matt was lucky that Dean didn't get to him first. But Sam's right. He needs to stay here with him. While Bobby's technically family, he's not Dean.

Family...

That's one other thing. When Sam had asked where he was today when they were going to bed, Dean lied. He never likes lying to his boy, but it was necessary. He shouldn't have to hear about John after what happened to him. So, Dean spins a story about him and Michael going out of town to get some rare parts for cars. Sam only nods once and turns out the light, laying his head on Dean's chest. He's unsure if Sam believes him or not, though he doesn't say anything. He only wraps his arms around his kid. Tomorrow, things will be different. From this moment on, nothing will be the same for the brothers. That's what Dean thinks as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Sam wakes up feeling refreshed. As expected, Dean's right there next to him, though he isn't sleeping. He only stares longingly into the younger Winchester's eyes before pressing their lips together. It feels right somehow, to do this. It's not weird liked he thought it would be. They get up and take a shower together. The whole time, Sam faced away from Dean, embarrassed. They're both naked and in an enclosed space together. Not to mention that Dean's as hard as a rock right now. He tells him that he won't do anything to him if he doesn't want it.

That's good, Sam thinks. He relaxes himself as Dean washes his back, lazily kissing his neck at the same timd. It's like he wants something to happen! Eventually, they finish up, both going into their own rooms to get ready for the day. Sam wills his erection to go down as he thinks about the shower event. Dean's touches were so soft, even under the spray of water. He's taking things slow, that much is clear. But for how long? How long will it be until he gets fed up with how slow things are going? Sam doesn't think on it too much as he slips on his thin, red hoodie. It's the color of blood.

* * *

They ate together like a normal family. Dean kept smiling over his cereal, occasionally bumping his feet against Sam's under the table. He's like a child sometimes. It's fun. It really is. Sam can tell that something is bugging him though. He doesn't pry for information; he'll tell him when he's ready. Or maybe not. Dean's got this thing where he'll withhold certain truths if he thinks that he's protecting Sam. So, if he  _is_ hiding something, it's only a matter of time until it comes out. Sam just doesn't want any huge surprises though. He hates those.

Despite Dean's protests against it, Sam declares that he wants to go to school today. The blonde knows that he can't win against Sam's infamous puppy dog eyes, so he relents. But not before kissing him again. This freedom to kiss and touch each other without being judged feels amazing. If only he had confessed sooner! Looking back, Sam wonders just how oblivious he was. Dean was clearly into him. The lingering touches, the blushing, all of it! It makes so much sense now. He feels so dumb.

Eventually, Dean drops him off at school, discreetly kissing him when no one looks their way. Sam's face flushes and continues to stay red all the way to homeroom. He sits by himself today as every one won't stop mumbling about him. Even Jessica and her friends whisper as if he can't hear them. And he shouldn't be able to. They're several feet away. Maybe they're louder than they realize. He grimaces as he hears Jessica giggle. She's making fun of him. But why? All he ever did was be nice to her. Castiel and Gabriel aren't laughing though. They seem very unhappy with the way that she's talking.

That's odd because, even though Sam knows this, their own mouths aren't moving to indicate such things. He shrugs it off as him bring paranoid. Soon, Ms. Mosley comes in the toom, sad eyes landing on Sam's. She's a nice woman, very caring towards him. He doesn't know how he knows that, but he does. She'd never do anything bad to him, but his defensesaren't dropping so easily. He'll remain guarded towards everyone. Everyone except Dean. He's the only exception. Always.

* * *

After lunch, Sam goes directly to the bathroom. He doesn't have to use it or anything, he only came in here to think. He paces the floor, talking to himself about how fucked up his life is. He stops by one of the sinks, looking directly at his reflection in the mirror. He looks normal enough, clean. But he knows the truth. Deep down, there's a darkness, a tainted spot that he desperately tried to scrub away to no avail. It fester everday, clawing, scratching it's way out. But then he pushes it back down with tremendous strength, only for it to resurface again.

He roars as he balls up his fist, punching the mirror. It shatters to pieces through the blunt force of the hit. Surprisingly, Sam feels nothing. Not just in the physical sense either. There's no distinct emotion going on in his head right now. It's all just a blank state. There's no blood on his knuckles either. He just continues to stare at his scarred reflection as someone opens the door into the bathroom. Even without looking, Sam knows that it's Crowley. Their paths haven't crossed lately.

"Hello there." He sneers, taking out a cigarette. He leans against the door and locks it. "Long time no see."

Sam's not in the mood. He speaks, but still gazes into the shattered mirror. "What do you want?"

"Oh, you don't sound too happy there, love. I don't want anything from you. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

"Sorry...?"

"Yeah, sorry. Sorry for not being there to watch as Mr. Carson roughed you up." Crowley cackles, couching on the smoke. "I'd give anything to see that. I'd pay good money."

Being done with this conversation, Sam tries to leave, only for the short, stocky asshole to move in front of him. This is getting rediculous. The rage that he's tried sohard to push away comes back up full force, threatening to tear apart everything good in his body. He breathes slowly, trying and failing to become centered and calm. It's obviously not working. His nostrils flare, making him look like a wild bull. He's really not in the fucking mood for this.

"Get out of my way." Sam growls. "Now..."

Crowley laughs, putting out his cigarette on the door. "Or what, Winchester? Gonna call your dear old brother on me? What, did he have a go with you as well? Did he and your father take turns?"

That's the last straw. No one talks about Dean like that and gets away with it. Sam's mind just fucking  _snaps_ and soon, his gaze turns into a deadly glare. His eyes are basically slits right now, promising swift punishment. His palms become sweaty as he clenches his fists. His extreme hatred for the fat little bastard in front of him proves too strong against his loving and caring side. The next words that come out of his mouth shocks the both of them.

"You should do the school a big favor and kill yourself."

"Wha--What!?" Crowley gasps.

Sam reiterates and points at the huge piece of glass on the sink. "Take that piece of glass and put it to your throat. Then drag it across your neck. Kill. Yourself."

It happens so suddenly then. Crowley walks slowly over to the sink, face confused. He seems lost and unable to speak, but he's doing exactly what Sam told him to. When he picks up the glass, he hesitates. That is until Sam urges him to finish what he started. Soon, Crowley brings the sharp object up to his throat, harshly dragging it across his neck as instructed. Blood spurts out of his jugular, all over the walls. He makes a gurgling sound as he tries to stop anymore blood from leaving him, but it's too late. He's dead within seconds. Sam has a small grin on his face as he exits the bathroom to continue on with his day like normal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaaat!? What could this possibly mean!? :)


	8. Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's attitude changes drastically as the week drags on. 
> 
> Dean hallucinates...or so he thinks.

School's been canceled for an undetermined amount of time due to Crowley's suicide. A student had found him in the bathroom during last period, blood splattered everywhere. The school district had no choice but to temporarily cancel all activity at Lawrence High School due to Crowley and Matt's deaths. Sam doesn't care. In his eyes, no one's gonna miss them. They were the scum of the earth and they had to be cleansed, wiped clean. The only way was through their deaths. He knows that he's kinda responsible for what happened to Crowley. Maybe. He barely remembers what went down in that bathroom.

Sam only knows that he said something awful. It had to be bad enough for the bully to take his own life. His home life must've been very shitty if he killed himself so easily. Poor kid. Not. He was a bastard, plain and fucking simple. He deserved to die, just like Matt. That fucker. What was his deal anyway? Was he some kind of Satanist? Looking for The Child of God to magically appear just so he could rape him? He was clearly insane, exactly like John. That man...oh, that man. No, not man. That  _monster_. 

Wherever he is, Sam hopes that he's suffering. Suffering just as much as he did that night. Those hurtful words he spat onto him during the rape, what kind of parent does that? John Winchester apparently. After that shameful act, he lost everything. His house, his job, his credibility and his children. Dean was-- _is_ \--the greatest, stepping up to fill in the "Dad" role perfectly, even when he shouldn't have. It's too much to ask for, that much Sam knows. He's Twenty-Two. He should be in college trying to figure out what he wants to be, not taking care of his introvert of a brother.

Right now though, Dean's holding him tight on the couch. It's more like snuggling actually. He's shirtless, but his skin is warm. They're watching The Omen. How fitting, right? At least that's what Sam thinks. Every so often, he sneaks a kiss to Dean's lips only to have his brother peck at his neck lovingly. Sam's starting to wonder about himself. His shyness is dissipating by the hours; he's becoming bolder. It's only been two days since the closing of the high school, so they've had plenty of time to kill. Well, Sam does. Dean still works. He had suggested that he call off for the week, but Sam's powers of persuasion proved too much for him to handle.

"Hey." Dean whispers as the movie nears the climax. "Feeling okay?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "That's the sixth time you've asked me that same question, De. I'm fine."

"You swear?"

"I have nothing to swear on."

"How bout my life?"

Somehow, that makes Sam uncomfortable. "No. I'd never swear on your life. I swear on my laptop's life...maybe."

He hears Dean chuckle lightly and feels him snake his arm around his waist. As the minutes pass, he notices that Dean's hands just won't stay still. Sam's no fool. He can obviously tell that his brother is nervous about being so close to him, bodies pressed together. It doesn't help that he can feel Dean's manhood poking him from where he's laying. Suddenly, he has a bold idea. He closes his eyes and bites his lip, reaching behind him to squeeze at Dean's crotch. As he expected, the man groans in pleasure, huffing out a breath that makes it's way to the back of Sam's neck.

"Don't--Don't do that, Sammy." Dean mumbles, cheeks heating up. "Don't tease me like that."

Sam turns around fully so that their chests are pressed together. "Who said that I was teasing you?"

He squeezes his privates again. Dean reaches down to grab at Sam's hand, connecting their lips in a heated kiss. This is what Sam wants and he's gonna take it. Jesus, now he sounds like Matt. No. What Matt did was extremely different than what he's doing right now. It's mutual and full of love. However, Sam doesn't really like being restrained, especially when he's trying to cop a feel on Dean's impressive package and muscles. He uses his other hand to feel around on the man's chest. Soon, Dean pulls back, pupils blown wide with red hot lust. He's breathing heavily.

"What's gotten into you?" He grins. "Don't get me wrong, I love this, but why are you doing this all of a sudden?"

"Be--Because..." Sam says shyly. "I just wanna...take care of you for once. Can I do that for you, Dean...?"

"Sure, Baby Boy. What do you want to do?"

Sam manages to get away from Dean, standing up in front of the couch. He takes off his shirt and pants, boner very visible. Dean watches transfixed as Sam starts walking upstairs, tossing down his underwear out of view. He quickly makes it to Dean's room, laying on top of the blankets of his bed. He knows that he'll follow him up; he does. Sam hears the stairs creak under Dean's weight as he pads barefoot up here. He's also naked, having removed his clothes downstairs. He shudders in a good way as he stares at the sight before him. Sam only smiles because he knows that he's the only one that Dean wants. The only object of his affections.

The green eyed man unconsciously strokes himself as he watches Sam blush and look away. "No, Sammy. Look at it, look at me. Look at what you do to me."

"Come here, Dean." Sam orders, face flushed.

He obeys, smirking. Dean stops playing with himself, slowly snaking his way up the bed where Sam's lain. When he gets there, he attacks his boy's neck, lapping at the exposed flesh. He bites softly causing Sam to moan quietly. Dean's hands roam around his entire body, save for his hole. He knows that it'll take some time before they go that far. Suddenly, Sam pushes him off, flipping them so he's on top and kissing Dean. It feels good to be in control actually. He feels powerful as the adrenaline starts to run through his veins.

Eventually, when he stops kissing him, Sam begins moving down slowly. Dean exhales shakily as Sam's mouth passes by his abdomen. Good. This is good. He's becoming putty in his hands. Or mouth soon. Without warning, Sam puts the entirety of Dean's cock in his mouth. For fucks sake, this is amazing. For the both of them apparently. Dean's writhing around, gripping the sheets and basically speaking in tongues. This is a very good sign Sam thinks to himself as he bobs his head up and down.

"Holyfuckingshit!!" Dean squeals. "SammySammySammy! Fuck!"

Sam stops temporarily, licking up and down at the base and shaft. He grins. "Use your words, Dean."

"Don't stop...please..."

"Okay then."

It's actually better than he had imagined. Giving a blowjob to Dean. He had thought it was going to be gross or just not enjoyable all together. Seems like he's proven himself wrong once again. Sam puts his all into it, cradling Dean's balls as he goes along. He's not sure how he knows how to do this, but he won't question it. It's not about him right now. It's about Dean, and how fucking sexy he looks when he's trying so hard to keep it together. The man reaches down to tangle his hands into Sam's hair, slightly tugging at the loose strands.

"Sammy...!" Dean gasps, trying to push the boy's head away. "Stop. I'm gonna cum!"

Well, that was fast, wasn't it? But Sam doesn't push back. Dean hollers as his seed spills down Sam's throat. The teen takes it all down, swallowing like a professional. It's salty, a little bitter too. Maybe swallowing wasn't the best choice. However, there's still the matter of him being incredibly hard; his dick is fucking screaming for attention right now. As Dean tries to come back from post-orgasm, Sam straddles him, jerking off his own cock.

Dean reaches up, doing it for him. His hand is so warm and his grip is firm. He's an expert at this. He clearly knows what he's doing and Sam's at his limit. In no time, he's shaking, shooting his load across his older brother's chest. Some lazily drops into his fist as he continues to pump the rest out. Sam feels amazing, going down to place hot, open mouthed kisses on Dean. Eventually, the man stops touching him, returning the kisses with more passion than normal. This right here is what Sam's always needed. Epic love. With a love like this, nothing will come between them at least that's what he wants to think. Things change...

People change too. He's the perfect example of that...

* * *

It's unspoken, but they've declared Dean's room as  _their_ room, with Sam occasionally going to his old room to get certain items. They've already moved most of the boy's stuff into the room, including his clothes and other geek stuff. Sam can't help but to feel accomplished in some strange ass way. He's got the hottest guy wrapped around his finger. It's so satisfying to know that Dean will do anything and everything that Sam tells him to do. Jesus, it sounds too good to be true. If he commanded it, Dean would bring him Jessica's decapitated head on a silver platter. She's not a nice person, fake.

In the morning, Dean heads off to work. They have breakfast together like usual. Before he leaves, he kisses Sam, telling him that he should stay indoors today. To do something productive while school's out. About three hours pass and Sam decides to head out to town. Of course he won't listen to Dean. He means well, but teenagers will be teenagers. He avoids the car shop at all costs; he doesn't want Dean to know that he disobeyed his orders. Were they even orders to begin with? They were more like suggestions than orders. Oh, well. He still won't go near there.

Sam wanders around the shopping district, just browsing when someone taps his shoulder. He turns towards them, already knowing the bastards that are here. It's Jessica and Tyson Brady. They've got several bags and he's carrying all of them. Sam feels bad for the guy. He must've paid for all of that bullshit. Sam's not entirely happy to see them together right now. Since they've talked so much shit about him, why should he be? If anything, he's excited to confront her about the truth.

"Oh my gosh!" Jessica smiles. "Hi, Sam! How are you doing?"

Sam's face is stoic, showing no signs of emotion. "Well enough. You know, for someone who's been through what I've been through."

"I'm sorry about what Mr. Carson did to you." Brady says. "If I had known, I would've--"

"Thanks," Sam cuts him off. "But I don't need your comfort or your fake sympathy. From either of you."

"Okaaaay...?"

Jessica frowns. "Sam, what's wrong?"

The nerve of this little bitch for asking that question. If she's this oblivious, then she needs to be in elementary school instead of with the big kids. Brady just looks on, uncomfortable. Great. Excellent. They need to know that Sam knows. The teen's posture straightens as he speaks. There's an air of authority in his voice, also something similar to threatening. He's in no mood for this shit today. That deep, black rage comes out again, but calmer. More relaxed.

"Have you always felt this disdain for me, Jessica? Or was it after I was attacked that you started to think of me as an attention seeker?"

Her face turns red. "I--I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Oh, but I think you do. I  _know_ that you do." Sam's smirk is menacing as he turns to Brady. "And what about you? Were you always full of shit? Cheating on poor little Jess with her best friend. Taking both of their virginities. You're pathetic."

The look on Jessica's shocked face is priceless. She seems disgusted with her boyfriend who only looks down at Sam with hate in his eyes. Perfect. Though, he's far from over. He's got some more interesting tricks up his sleeve. Sam is enjoying this. He's more confident in himself, now more than ever! He can feel a certain presence with him as he spits these venomous words out towards the people he used to call his friends.

"Jessica, did you ever tell Brady that you stole from his mother's jewelry box while he was passed out?" Sam asks, grin in place. "But was that before or after Brady viciously killed your dog in a drunken rage?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Jessica yells. "Why are you saying these things?"

"I'm just telling you the truth. And I'm letting you know that I know the truth about yourselves. Your dirty lies, your filthy souls. I know everything all the way down to your darkest desires."

Brady sneers. "I'll send you straight to hell."

The boy just grins madly. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

He casually walks by the two of them, whistling happily. However, he stops when he reaches the door. This is the icing on top of the most delicious cake ever. Sam faces their general direction, eyes twinkling in absolute delight. He's feeling good about this, full of life.

"Jessica, I think you'd like to take a walk, right? How about you walk into ongoing traffic and throw yourself into a moving car. And Brady? Why don't you go home to your mother and help her finish that bottle of vodka. Shove it down her throat, the whole thing, and use the gun under her pillow to off yourself next. See ya around, guys."

* * *

Dean wipes his brow as he finishes up on a car that he's been working on for hours. The whole time Michael was chatting idly to him about Sam and if he's available for coming down to the shop while school's out. Dean chuckled, telling his boss that Sam would prefer to stay at home and read a good book. Michael, however, doesn't let it go. He even proposes to Dean that he'd pay to have an assistant here part time. While his pride desperately wants him to reject the offer, he considers it, letting him know that he'll run it by with Sam.

Michael's not even hiding his slight infatuation for Sam, occasionally bringing him up in conversation. Dean can't show any emotion other than amusement, otherwise he'd give it all away. He's not a fan of his boss rambling about Sam being eye candy, but he has to push through. He has to. Eventually, Michael goes out for a lunch break, leaving Dean alone to put some tools away. It's a small shop, so there's no one here besides himself.

As Dean goes to put the stuff away, he hears the front bell ring. He sighs, wiping his messy hands with the rag on his shoulder. When he gets to the front, he sees a guy dressed in an all black suit. Everything about him screams expensive, money all over. His stance is even; the man glances at his expensive watch and smiles as Dean walks up to him. The air smells of lavender for some reason. There's also something else. Sulfur maybe...?

"Hey." Dean says informally. "Can I help you?"

The guy scoffs in a way that seems almost condescending. "You help me? I don't think so."

"Okay...? Well, if you don't need help, why are you even here?" Dean's tone changes. "Not to be rude or anything."

"I'm here to help  _you_ , Dean. I'm here to help you better understand the predicament that you're in."

What the hell...? What's this guy on about? Dean's shocked that he knows his name because his name tag hasn't been made yet. Is he some kind of stalker? That's the only thing that makes sense right now. The man cocks his head to the side when Dean just stares at him, mouth slightly ajar. Who is this guy?

"What are even talking about? Who are you?"

"Well, my name is Azazel, no last name." The rich guy grins. "I know that to you, it may sound weird. My father was--is--very...religious."

"Right..." Dean mutters. "What the hell do you want? Why are you here?"

"You and I have something in common, Dean. It's that we both want to see Sam safe. We both want to see him flourish in this world. You understand that?"

"How do you--?"

"There's others out there, you know." Azazel states. "Like me. We live to serve him. His father too."

"How's John involved in all of this!?" Dean growls.

Azazel chuckles loud, obviously amused. "John has absolutely nothing to do with this, though if I had the choice, he'd be hanging from his dick in his cell. No, I'm not talking about  _your_ father, I'm talking about  _Sam's_."

"I don't know who the fuck you are, but since you seem to know so much already, then you probably already know that Sam and I share the same parents."

"Samuel's father is...not of this world."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"You'll learn. I'll be speaking with you soon, Dean."

Just as Dean blinks, the man before him vanishes from sight. It has the mechanic searching all around the front of the shop to find him. However, he comes up short with literally nothing. Dean's scared because if Azazel was never here, then that was a hallucination. And if that was a hallucination, then he's probably suffering from the same illness as John. Suddenly, he looks to the window to see a young woman walking into the street.

Immediately, Dean recognizes her as one of Sam's little friends. At first, he thinks nothing of it. However, it soon becomes apparent that she doesn't intend on crossing the street. It happens so fast. She jumps in front of a moving truck then. Horrified, Dean runs out of the shop, looking at the car and the dead girl on the ground. Soon, many people start calling the police, the ambulance, anything. What the fuck is going on in this fucking town!?


	9. Paint It, Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam talks to and befriends a strange man in a suit.
> 
> Dean starts doubting his own sanity as another person appears before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean in the first person in this chapter. 
> 
> (Apologies for any errors.)

I don't feel any type of way right now. She had it coming, they both did. It's wrong to pretend to be friends with someone only to badmouth them in front of others. I don't regret telling Jess to jump in front of a moving car, nor do I regret that Brady actually killed his mother and then himself. She was an alcoholic, drinking herself into stupors. I fucking did him a favor. Now, she'll find peace...wherever she is. We all know where her son and his terrible girlfriend went to. I care so little of their fate. Does this make me a bad person? I like to think that I'm still a good person sometimes despite my actions.

I'm only doing this to weed out the wicked. Is there something wrong with that? Isn't it in The Bible somewhere where God punishes evildoers? That's all I'm doing...at least I think I am. It's all been unconsciously up until now. Someone, or  _something_ , is influencing me. I can feel this tangible darkness coursing through my very veins. What's happening to me? Why do I know so many dark secrets about the people I meet? Why do they obey me when I give them orders. No, not orders. Suggestions. It's so strange. Maybe I really am the Antichrist.

No, that's just bullshit. I'm not evil, and not hellbent on battling Christ or taking over Creation. It's all just a long, elaborate nightmare that I have yet to wake up from. And when I do, I'll be back in Sioux Falls all curled up with Dean on the couch while Bobby reads from one of my favorite novels. Oh, how I desperately wish that it's just a dream. This is too fucking rediculous to be a nightmare; I hate this shit. Why Dean brought us back here I'll never know, but I damn sure won't go back to the timid, scared kid I used to be. No, with this  _power_ at my disposable, I'll make the world a better place. It needs a reform and I'll happily accept the challenge.

I wonder how Dean would think about all of this. I haven't told him what Matt said to me, about me being pure and cursing God's name as he violated me. He was a sick, sick man with an incredible amount of self restraint. It didn't last too long, but it's still commendable. To be able to hide a mental illness for as long as he did is kinda cool. God, now I sound like Dean with my slight lack of vocabulary. I love that jerk. He's the only reason why I keep waking up in the morning. If I had my own way, I would've ended it all a while ago...after Matt hurt me the first time.

But no. Dean's smiling face always saves me from myself. I'd kill for him and I know that he'd do the same for me. I've already killed though. Technically. I only encouraged them to do it; compelling them to do what they wanted to do anyway. There's no blood on these hands of mine, so I didn't really do anything. Well, that's not what the police would say nowadays. Thankfully, they're as oblivious as everyone else in this damn town. I'm so sick of this place. There's bigger and better things than this shithole of a town.

I'm currently sitting alone on the couch watching TV. Dean's out working, literally calling every ten minutes to check up on me. It's cute, but it's also annoying as all holy hell. Hell isn't holy. Not in the slightest, but you get my point. He's driving me nuts. Still love him though. Got off the phone with him three minutes ago, so only seven more to go. As I almost slip into a coma due to boredom, the doorbell rings. Yeah, no. I'm not falling for that again. The last time I answered the door when I was home alone, I ended up having bruises all around my inner thighs. No, I'm good.

However, the person ringing this goddamn bell won't quit. I know that it's not Matt; that bastard's dead. Who else can it be? Suddenly, as I stand up to answer it, the air around me turns cold. A strong shiver goes up my spine as I turn the doorknob. The sensations disappear completely when I lay my eyes on the refined gentleman in front of me. He looks sophisticated, so much so that it has me wondering just why he's here, in this quaint little neighborhood. The man smiles warmly at me and that makes me feel freaked out a bit.

"Hello." He says to me.

I frown slightly. "Hi. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I just wanted to see you again in person." The gentleman's eyes are full of excitement and adoration. Why? "Seeing you so grown up is a miracle. Well, grown up isn't exactly right, is it? May I come in?"

"No. I have no idea who you are or what you want. You mentioned that you wanted to see me  _again_. Have we met before?"

I blink once and he vanishes from my sight. Suddenly, I hear him talking behind me as if this shit is normal for him. I turn around and sure enough, that strange man is in my house, looking around and inspecting my belongings. I do a double take at the front door to make sure I'm not seeing things before I close it slowly, listening to the man.

"When you were just Six Months Old." He muses. "You grew up humbly, I see. It's not a bad house; middle-class isn't really my thing, as you can tell. I suspect that Dean is working?"

"Uh..." I hesitate. And why not? There's a stranger in my house...somehow. "Yes, he is. I will choose to ignore what just happened because I honestly don't have a logical explanation for it. So, who are you anyway?"

He chuckles. "They call me Azazel. Or at least that's what your father named me."

Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. This shit is getting out of hand. I want some fucking answers and I want them right now. However, I have no doubt that this Azazel character will most likely be a cryptic bastard. He seems like the type, with his bright smile and dark chuckles. I'm getting the distinct vibe that he isn't talking about John when he said that my father named him. That name, "Azazel", it's definitely biblical. Just don't know what side's he's on, though I have a hint.

"And you are referring to a being that is  _not_ John Winchester." I state. It's not a question.

"Clever kid." Azazel smiles, then apologizes. "No, I'm sorry. You're not a kid, nor are you a child. You're a man now, and it's time that you know a little about your history."

History?

* * *

This job isn't so bad, I suppose. It brings in the money. I haven't been able to get that phone I promised Sam, but he seems okay about it. I love my boy, so very much. He's been mine since I pulled him out of that flaming house. John might be his biological father, but he's my kid. Nothing and no one will ever take him away from me. Although, I'm starting to doubt that. Lately, I haven't been myself. I've been...hearing and seeing things that I  _know_ aren't real. They fucking can't be! I'm so sick of this, having to look over my shoulder every time I have to leave the house.

I feel as though someone's watching over me and not in the good way either. That dark presence that was in the house hasn't returned since the mirror broke. I don't feel it with us anymore, but that doesn't mean that the strange shit has ceased either. There's something wrong with this town. Something is seriously going on. It's like a virus, like a disease. There's been three deaths, all mysterious and happening without explanation. Mr. Carson's death was beyond his control, however, Sam's two friends committed suicide, with one of them murdering his own mother before taking his life.

Had I known this shit would happen, I wouldn't have even packed our bags. Sammy and I were just fine where we were, with Bobby. He's coming up in a few days, thank God. Just for a while to keep us company. I know that Sam loves having him around. I have to be careful though. I can't let Bobby know about us. So that means Sammy and I can't be lovey dovey like I want. It's only for a couple of days. I'll learn to deal. Right now, I'm more concerned about my boy's safety. Azazel--I think he said his name was--could probably be watching him right now.

His motives aren't clear to me, but I noticed that he knows about our lives. In particular, Sam's. Azazel claims to mean us no harm, that he only wants to see Sam grow up and become great or some shit. And then that whole thing with the disappearing stuff. What the hell am I even thinking? Of Co he's not real. Just a subconscious apparition I've conjured up. God, I really need to stop listening to Sam when he goes off on these smart little tangents. I guess that's what happens when your father was a respected college professor. It's a shame really. All that credibility gone in a blink of an eye.

I don't care.

I haven't cared since the cops came in to take him away. I sat there on thr couch with Sammy, holding him as he cried in my arms. He was so devastated about the attack that that was all he ever did for the first week: Cry. It was even worse when they had to examine him in the hospital. I refused to leave the room; I was escorted out by security anyways. I nearly went to jail myself had Sam not cried for me to behave. It took every ounce of the strength in my bones to not connect my fist with one of those security guys' face.

I'm not gonna think in that right now. I'd rather much focus on my deteriorating mental health. I hate using big words. Jesus Fucking Christ. I shouldn't take the Messiah's name in vain. He might be my brother. That joke was terrible and lame, bordering on insensitive. Towards who, I don't know. But the point is this: Sam isn't the Antichrist or Christ reborn. He's just a kid with severe issues. That sounds cruel when I say it like that, but it's not intended to be. I really love him. I'd never say or do something that would hurt him. Not intentionally, as I said before.

As I get ready to clock out, I hear a strange sound. Like the beating of wings, but closer. I take a look over at Michael to see him standing still, almost like he's frozen in time. I wave my hand in his face, but nothing. Not even a blink. I drop the wrench I'm holding and it only hovers in the air. Either I'm going crazy, or something is fucking messing with me. Maybe that sandwich I ate a little while ago. Yeah, it's gotta be that.

"It's not the sandwich." I hear behind me.

When I turn, I see a woman with long, red hair, smiling softly at me. She's dressed appropriately enough, in a nice suit, not unlike how I had imagined Azazel in. She pulls this off well. If I wasn't so into Sam, I'd probably make a pass at her. Probably. I'm not sure. Whatever. I have enough decency to admit that yes, she's an attractive woman. Attractive for an imaginary person. She laughs then, amused.

"I'm not imaginary either."

"That's exactly what an imaginary person who say after they read their creator's mind." I mutter aloud. "I'm going crazy."

"You doubt that I exist."

"I don't even know what you are!"

"My name is Anna, and I am an Angel of the Lord."

No shit...

* * *

I had led Azazel into the living room area, sitting right next to him. For reasons that I can't seem to fathom, this man has already made an impression on me. He's calm, cool and collected by my standards. He says that he'll tell me my history. This should be interesting to hear. I always loved learning about things in case you haven't noticed. Knowledge is power...but this power feels amazing. If he can tell me a little more about this, that'd be excellent.

"So," Azazel sighs as he looks around. "Where should I start?"

"The beginning would be nice." I mumble.

"Well, I suppose that'll have to suffice. Even before you were born, there were big plans for you. Unearthly plans. Plans that'll shape the entire planet in only a couple more years. You're destined for great things, Sam."

"So I've been told..."

Azazel chuckles. "If you're referring to Matt, then I apologize for that. He was the bad apple. He went rogue, assuming that you were the Messiah."

I frown. "Am I not?"

"Now I think even you know the answer to that. You are greater than Christ himself. Capable of so much more! Your strength is massive and you haven't even unlocked the best part of it. You're The Lightbringer, Samuel Winchester..."

I know that name. It's so faint, but I think I remember. I remember going through John's belongings as a child, rifling around his biblical notes. There were stories of Jesus telling his disciples and the people around him of a false prophet, one who will make claim to his throne in his name. One who will move mountains and perform miracles never seen before. The Beast. The one who shall take battle with Christ before the end of times. Death and destruction will follow and no one will be safe.

"The Lightbringer was also Lucifer's name..." I whisper, begging for clarity.

The man next to me clasps his hands together. "It can be interpreted as such. It means many things as Lucifer has... _many names_."

I realize it then. "Am I really the...Antichrist...?"

"Don't think of it as a curse or think yourself as evil or cruel. They were all stories back then, full of lies about who you really are! You will be a great leader, achieving so much in such a short time. You must accept your fate as it is the best and only choice you have."

"Why me?" I sob. I didn't even notice that I was crying. "Why did this have to happen to me!?"

"What do the Humans say? 'It's in God's plan'? I, myself, am overjoyed to sit here with you. You should be happy that your father was one of the brightest, beautiful angels of all time."

I scoff. "Then why was he cast out?"

"Because..." Azazel grimaces as though he's about to mention something that he loathes. "His own father wanted him to bow down to his Creation. Lucifer was, and still is, very arrogant. It might ultimately be his downfall."

* * *

I'm really fucking feeling like a nut job right now. An Angel of the Lord? Give me a break! This doesn't happen! Shit like this doesn't happen! I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but I know one thing is for sure: Angels don't exist. If they did, my mother would still be alive and Sammy wouldn't have gotten hurt by John that night. So, yeah, I'd say that I have every right to be skeptical. This Anna woman is just looking at me like I'm the funniest person around. Stop the bullshit!

"Alright," I end up saying. "I'll bite. What do you want, Angel of the Lord?"

She takes one step forward, hands at her side. "To inform you that change is coming your way."

"What kind of change?"

"Planetary change. Change so massive that it would be unwise to ignore."

Of course. "Would you stop beating around the bush!? Just--Just tell me why you're here! I don't have time for this!"

"I, and many others like me, have reason to believe that your brother is our Savior, Dean."

"Savior..." I repeat. I know what comes next, even if I'm not prepared for it. "What does that mean? What's Sammy got to do with being a Savior?"

"There is no absolute proof of this," Anna continues. "But with God being unavailable, we are unable to determine if Samuel Winchester is The Christ Child or The Beast. I, personally, believe that he may be the Messiah."

My head's spinning right now because SERIOUSLY!? How can this be true? How cam this even be happening? I'm hyperventilating, trying to get a grip on my surroundings. This woman, this  _Angel_ , thinks my Sammy is Jesus Christ reborn. My mind surely conjures up the most fascinating and rediculous stories imaginable. If I'm hallucinating this, then where did it all come from? That's a dumb, fucking question. I was born into this! John's work must've affected my head too. That's it. That's gotta be it!

"And if he isn't?" I ask. I already know the answer.

"If Sam isn't The Messiah, then we have a problem. I visited your father years ago; he took this information hard. He tried to purge--"

"I know what he did." I growl. "I was there. Leave. You're just a figment of my imagination anyway. I'm choosing to end this freak show."

Anna smiles at me. It's a sad one. "As you wish, Dean, but you cannot ignore this. Whatever you choose, the real truth will come out. You may need to hurry back home though. I sense a denizen of Hell is near your brother."

Before I can get to question her further, she leaves my sight completely. At the same moment, everything resumes as it was right before she arrived. The wrench I was holding falls to the floor, clattering loudly. Michael jumps, startled. I'm the one who should be startled! Imaginary people are visiting me and trying to convince me that they're real. And what did Anna say about a denizen of Hell? Who could she mean? No. Stop it, Dean. You're going crazy.

"Hey," Michael says, touching my shoulder. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm...I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." I insist. "I just need to get home. Long day, ya know? I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, I clock out, heading straight for the car. I can't make sense of what's happening to me, but I know that I'm being tested. It sounds strange and nearly insane, but I can't explain anything that's happening. All I know is that I gotta get home to Sammy. To tell him that I love him. To protect him from myself if I have to. I don't wanna hurt him if I'm going through what John did. I'll get help early, unlike him. I won't let my boy see me like this.

* * *

"You and I met when you were Six Months Old, Sam." Azazel explains. "I was sent by your father to check in on you, to make sure that your Earth father was unaware of what was in store for you. I came with a gift, specifically from Lucifer himself: A strain of his grace. As I began to administer your gift, your mother caught me in the act."

I'm listening with my breath held in. "What happened?"

"I...did what I had to do to ensure your future."

"You." I gasp. I stand up and glare heatedly at this man. "You're the one! You killed my mother! I knew, for so long I knew, that the circumstances of her death were abnormal. There couldn't have been faulty wiring..."

"You must understand--"

"I understand perfectly." I sneer. My darkness grips me tight, swirling around my soul. "Erase the evidence, destroy all and any witnesses? My mother was trying to protect me!"

"Your mother would've killed you!" Azazel yells at me. I shut up immediately. "Just like John would've killed you had Dean not interfered! I saw a glimpse of the future when she stared into my eyes. Had I disappeared before doing what I did, she would've taken a pillow to you and everything your father worked for would've been for nothing!  _I saved you!_ "

I shake my head, my hands ball into fists. "You're wrong. You didn't save me. Dean did."

As I say this, I hear the front door lock click; Dean's home. I take my eyes away from Azazel for one second, and he's gone. This can't get any worse. Soon, Dean comes all the way in, calling my name. I answer him, telling him exactly where I am while searching for Azazel. My brother rushes in with his blue mechanic's overalls, hugging me close. He smells like sweat and oil from those cars. It's familiar. Like when he used to help Uncle Bobby with his.

I don't know why, but a small tear worms its way from my eye and down my cheek. This closeness between me and him, I never want it to go away. He's my everything and if I ever commanded him to kill me, I know that he wouldn't do it. Even if I compelled him to, he still wouldn't lay a finger on me. That's why if I ever become more than I am now, I'll do it myself. If I am Lucifer's child, then I'll do it. If only to save him. If only for Dean...

"Are you okay, Sammy?" He says to me after kissing me deeply.

"I'm okay..."

"Good. That's good. Listen, I need to ask you something, okay? It's important."

I'm nervous. "Alright."

"Did someone...did someone come by here today? Earlier?"

"Yes." I answer honestly. "There was...a man that came by."

Dean sighs shakily. Something isn't right. "Okay. Did he say anything? His name? What he wanted?"

"He...I..."

What should I say? Yes, Dean. A man named Azazel came into our house without being invited inside, seemingly teleporting himself here. Yes, he said tons of things, giving me very useful information about myself. Like, for instance, I'm The Beast or The Lightbringer, illegitimate son of Lucifer himself. Azazel killed our mom because she would've killed me first. Any questions? Yeah, I'm not gonna tell him all of that. I still need to process this shit. But if Dean had spoken to him too, then I should tell him something, right? Maybe. Perhaps.

"He said his name was Azazel." I confess, but I also lie. "He only came for a second and he left. I swear. He didn't say much, just that it was nice seeing me."

Dean's face pales as he grips me for another bone crushing hug. There's something that he's not telling me. But there's a whole lot more that I'm not telling him. We're keeping secrets from each other and for some reason, I don't know what he's hiding. I can't see it. It's blocked off. In more ways than one, this makes Dean special. He could be plotting to kill me and I wouldn't even know about it. But I know he wouldn't. I should keep an eye out for him though. Things will only get worse from here on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revelations! Revelations everywhere! Stay tuned! ;)


	10. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby Singer visits his boys in Lawrence, Kansas where only bad things await...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobby's perspective in this chapter. Might end up being a little sad... ;)
> 
> (Sorry for the wait! Currently juggling two fictions. Gah! I swore to myself that I'd never do it again, but shit happens. Anyways, enjoy! Mistakes ahead!)

It's been a while since Bobby's seen his boys. They've been settled in their old house for quite some time. He bought it off shortly after John was carted away and he paid the housekeeper, Sandy, to look after it. He's not sure why he didn't get rid of it like the boys wanted him to, but he's glad that he didn't. Right now though, things aren't looking too good. There's something wrong, at least that's what Dean says. He called yesterday, saying that he could really use some guidance of some kind. Some fatherly presence that isn't John. He also wants him to take Sam.

Bobby, always being the supportive and caring man that he is, made the decision to travel to Lawrence early. He needs to see his boys, to check on them. Dean sounded resigned, almost frightened on the phone. Whatever is bothering him must be really bad. He mentioned seeing people, having them appear and disappear completely in the blink of an eye. Bobby's not judging, but he suspects that Dean might be...well, schizophrenic. Like John. It's just a thought as the young man had said that he didn't trust himself around Sam and that strange things are happening in that house.

He shouldn't have let them leave. It's too soon to even step foot in that place. Bobby still has memories of Sam shrieking in the middle of the night, calling for Dean to get John off of him. That boy doesn't need to be in that house. He needs to see another psychiatrist, someone who can legally medicate him. It was supposed to happen before, but Dean canceled all of Sam's sessions with the guy when he accidentally made him cry. If there's one thing that Bobby can say about Dean it's that his love for his brother knows no bounds. Those two are as thick as thieves, never apart from each other for too long. That might have to change soon.

As Bobby starts to pack up for the five hour trip ahead of him, he takes the time to think about how John lost his way. He had shown no signs of apparent mental illness in the years before, so why did he do all of that so suddenly? Did he...always want Sam like that, only trying to kill him after he realized what he did? Bobby doesn't know, he's not in his former friend's mind. His psychology days are over. He writes it down as John being paranoid over the otherworldly and mythical stories that he used to study. A job like that makes you see things differently. Strange things...

* * *

The journey wasn't as long as he had originally thought. He actually made it there in less than three hours. He used the same route he used to when he visited John and the boys. Bobby breezed through it quick enough. Upon parking in front of the house, he just stares at it. It's exactly the same as it was when he came here two years ago. He sees Dean's car in driveway; John's old car. She's good as new. Dean hasn't let her down yet and he probably never intends to, along with Sam.

Bobby walks slowly up the pathway to the front door, big travel bag in hand. Every step feels heavy, like cement blocks are tied to his feet. It's weird being back here. He doesn't know how they could've done it. Sort of. They're kind of having issues, otherwise, he wouldn't have gotten here earlier than needed. He swallows a dry lump in his throat as he rings the bell once. Bobby's got a crooked grin set in place just as soon as Sam answers the door. The grin softens a little as the older man lays his eyes upon his surrogate son.

He doesn't seem...right. Like there's something missing. The boy's eyes are full of something similar to distrustful, maybe even confused. That's odd. Didn't Dean tell him that Bobby would visit? In a flash, his facial expression changes to slightly happy. Sam smiles, though it seems to be a bit forced. Bobby doesn't think too much of it. He knows that they're going through some troubles. It's completely understandable to act indifferent towards other people, but he's got a feeling that Sam doesn't do that towards Dean.

"Uncle Bobby...?" He says. "What--What are you doing here?"

Before the man can answer, Dean comes to the doorway, eyes red rimmed and tired. He looks like he's seen better days. He smirks, trying to play it cool. "I had called him here early. I thought it'd be great to see him."

"So here I am." Bobby laughs, grabbing Sam into a hug when the boy goes for one. "I missed you too, Sam."

* * *

Dean really made an impression at dinner. He cooked a delicious pasta without burning down the house. Bobby consulted with Sam who informed the old man that that is basically the only dish that he knows how to make so far. The elder Winchester brother scoffed, balling up a napkin to throw at the boy. It feels right being with them again. Being able to eat dinner together and catch up on certain event. It seems that there's something off, something that they aren't telling him. He's read about some deaths in this town, so maybe that's it?

After dinner, Sam went straight to bed, leaving Dean and Bobby to clean up the dishes. When he was certain that Sam was out of earshot, he produced two bottles of beer from the fridge and sat down with the old man at the table. It was then that he broke down, telling him about Sam's guidance counselor, the school, the strange incidents, the car garage, even the voices. Bobby's sure that he's missing out a key element in this story. Like the way that the man looks a little too long at Sam. Touching his hand for longer than necessary. It could be nothing. It could be something, but one thing's for certain: Sam was molested again, by someone he had trusted.

Bobby's furious. At himself for not getting to wring that man's neck and at Dean for not telling him immediately. However, it seems that Sam's doing okay for now. Maybe. He's not entirely convinced. There's a certain air about him now. Some sort of authoritative air, like he's ready to lead people into war. Like he's ready to do things that won't go unnoticed. Big things. Maybe it's just Bobby reading too much into it. Maybe he's just seeing what he wants to see. Whatever the issue, he's supportive of Dean's plight. He thinks that he'll stick around for a few more days, just to keep an eye on him. If Dean suspects that he's schizophrenic, then he needs to be watched.

These incidents though, they sound incredibly bizarre. Apparently, Sam's felt a presence in the house too. Bobby's no parapsychologist, but this all seems odd. He hasn't experienced ghosts or spirits or whatever, so he can't really judge on what the boys supposedly saw or felt. For now, he'll sleep on it. Dean offered him his room, saying that he'll take the couch. However, Bobby declines, taking John's room instead. The older Winchester brother looks at him strangely for a second, then. It passes. He knows how the young man feels about his father. There's no relationship anymore, just scars. Emotional and physical. Though, he's not sure why he even went to John at the sanatorium in the first place.

Bobby gets up to the room, placing new sheets and blankets on the bed. Most of John's old stuff is here, clothes and old books and notes. Everything is neat. Bobby's still a little ticked off that Dean fired the housekeeper, buy he lets it slide. He sees where he's coming from; there was a strange person coming in and out of their house without being announced. He slips out if his travel clothes to put on his sleeping wear. Sometime after midnight, he wakes up, painfully aware that someone is up and walking around. He smiles because he knows it's Sam sneaking into Dean's room.

After all this time, he still depends on his older brother to make everything better. It wasn't always like this. It used to be that Sam was independent, always doing things by himself, looking for the next challenge. It was Dean that chased after him, pestering him. They were still close though. It wasn't until after John's episode that Sam began to cling to Dean. He's so dependant in him that it's nearly insane. Bobby pays it no mind as he falls back asleep. Even if it takes them years, Sam  _will_ have a normal life. He'll graduate, and go to college to study to be whatever he wants while Dean...well, Dean will be doing...something with his life. Hopefully.

* * *

In the morning, when he peered into Sam's room, Bobby discovered that he wasn't there. When he looked into Dean's, he saw the boy curled around his brother like a damn lifeline. It's heartwarming to watch, except that it also isn't. The way that Dean is holding onto Sam isn't exactly...brotherly. It's more like a lover than anything else. Bobby shakes it off, deciding that he needs coffee. He finds everything well enough; everything is as it was before. The cups, the sugar, even the silverware. As he makes the coffee, he suspects that since they've been here, Sam has probably missed his homemade pancakes.

So, Bobby pulls out the ingredients. He finds them easily too. Just as he finishes up, Sam walks in, hair abnormally straight for someone who just woke up. He sits right down in the chair nearest to the refrigerator, rubbing his eyes. Bobby smiles his way, but he doesn't receive one back. It's more like a look of disdain, but it's gone in a flash; he smiles this time and it throws the older man a little off guard. Suddenly, he feels a chill in the air. He absently notices that there aren't any windows or doors open at this time. He decides that it's nothing as he puts a plate of pancakes in front of Sam.

"Eat up." Bobby says. "Wouldn't wanna be late for school."

Sam digs into his food, scowl in his face. "I don't have school right now."

"Why not."

"My guidance counselor died in his office trying to rape me, a bully slit his throat in the bathroom, two of my friends killed each other soon after. One jumped in front of a car, while the other shot himself in the head. But that was only after he killed his mother."

He says this so casually, like he's at a dinner party talking about the weather. Bobby senses that things might be far worse than Dean had originally imagined. Sam only continues to eat as his older brother pads barefoot into the kitchen, hair a wild mess. He ruffles Sam's hair a bit, smiling sleepily when the boy complains about it. Bobby says his good mornings as he presents Dean his plate. He takes his seat next to Sam, still smiling. What's he so happy about? They see each other every day, don't they? Again, there's a blast of cold air and a chill that goes up his spine. Soon, he'll be hearing voices. That's...not something to joke around about.

* * *

Dean went to work shortly after breakfast was finished, saying his goodbyes. Sam looks sad, but that's okay. Bobby knows just what to do to cheer him up. He quickly goes to his bag to show him a multitude of books that he had left behind in Sioux Falls. As expected, Sam rejoices, hugging the old man. Soon, they're on the couch, talking about the old times. The boy asks about Bobby's long time friend, Rufus. That crusty old bastard. The man tells him that everything is alright with him, that he's looking after the house while he's away.

It isn't long before Sam's mood shifts again for the worse. He becomes sullen, withdrawn from the conversations that they were having. Bobby suspects that he's probably going through some sort of depression, though he's almost certain of it. After looking through a pile of board games in the corner, he finds a chessboard with the pieces still intact. It was him that taught Sam how to play anyway. They immediately get to work, setting up the pieces in their respective places. Bobby attempts to make casual conversation as they play against each other. 

"So, Sam," He starts. "How's everything?"

Sam makes his move and responds. "I'm sure that you've already talked with Dean."

"I have, but I just wanted to check in on  _you_ , Squirt. You're not such a Squirt anymore though. You're starting to become a little bigger." Bobby chuckles.

"Perhaps. Your move."

Bobby squints his eyes across the board, selecting his pawn. "I know that--that some very unfortunate things have been happening to you lately and I'm sorry that you went through that. You wanna come back with me for a few weeks?"

Sam looks up, a certain twinkle in his eye. "Will Dean be coming too?"

This is the hard part. "Well, no, but--"

"Then I'm not going anywhere."

"Sam, Dean's sick, okay?"

The boy'sexpression can only be described as scared. "Sick? No, what do you mean sick? Dean's fine! He's fine, alright!? He would've told me if he wasn't!"

"Just listen." Bobby tries his best to calm Sam dow. "He's told me that...he doesn't feel like himself. He's scared that whatever happened with John, is happening to him. He said that he'd like for me to take you back to Sioux Falls with me in a couple of days so he can get help."

"No! You're lying! Stop lying!"

This isn't gonna get better. No, this is just getting worse. What, with Sam being hysterical. Can't he see that Dean's doing this to protect him? If he really is having mental issues, then he's making sure that his little brother is safe and with someone that he can trust. Sam doesn't stand, seething at the table where they set up the match. Bobby's certain that whatever is going on in this kid's mind isn't pleasant. He's most likely thinking of ways to run away or ways to get Dean not to go. But mostly, he looks betrayed. It's very understandable.

"He wanted to tell you," Bobby continues. "But he's...he just loves you too much. He's gonna get help, Sam. He'll get better."

"He's  _not_ sick." The boy growls. "He's not. He's fine. What is he saying to you, huh? What is he telling you!? Dean's not fucking sick!"

"Watch your mouth, Sam!"

"YOU'RE NOT MY FUCKING FATHER!"

This moment would have to be the most frightening and the most emotional for Bobby Singer. As soon as Sam's voice raises high, the chessboard flies off of the table, taking the pieces with it. Everything is scattered onto the floor then with the old man looking on in horror. What was that? He felt something then...something...unnatural and definitely unsafe. He looks at Sam who only gazes back in guilt. What for? For yelling or for...? No, that's impossible. Nothing moved that.  _Nothing moved that!_ It was almost as if the air around them decides to interfere in their little talk. Bobby shakily talks to Sam, attempting to make sense of all this.

"What...What just happened...?"

"I--I..." The teen stutters. "I pushed it off the table...because I was mad..."

"No, Sam. You...you didn't do that. I saw you. You didn't move your hands...You didn't do anything."

"Yes, I did." He insists. Sam sighs heavily as he gets up, walking to the stairs. "I'm tired. I--I'm gonna...take a nap or...something."

And with that, Sam trudged up the stairs and into his room. The door shut closed so delicately that Bobby almost didn't hear it. Minutes pass and he finds that he's still stuck in that chair, staring at the mess and replaying everything that just happened in his head. Sam's not telling the truth and he always tells the truth. Bobby felt a...a presence with him. It made him feel cold, in the emotional sense as well as the other one too. There's an evil here, it's undeniable, but at it's center, was Sam.

As he cleans up the chess pieces, Bobby resolves to figure out what's happening in this place. He's starting to believe what Dean was talking about, but he's also beginning to think that he's trying to justify something. Dean thinks that he's going insane because he saw something that he can't clearly explain. That's fine because Bobby just saw the same type of thing. He's sending Sam away to be safe and now it's all clicking together. After he finishes, he gets his keys and walks out the door to his car. Bobby decides that visiting Dean at the car garage will warrant some answers.

* * *

Upon getting there, he notices that Dean's very good at his job. Not only did he walk in on him getting a nice tip, but he also saw the woman give him a kiss on his cheek for his services. Though he's being polite about it, he casually tells the woman that he's taken. Really? Bobby would definitely love to meet this girl. It's only been a few weeks and he's already snagging the ladies? He sure works fast. Dean smiles when he sees Bobby, but then he frowns, looking around and behind him for a certain someone.

"Hey, where's Sam?" Dean asks. "He didn't wanna come?"

Bobby shakes his head, adjusting his cap. "No, he, uh, he was a little tuckered out. You know, too much fun and stuff. Listen, you got time to talk for a second? There's something that I wanna talk to you about."

"Sure," Dean nods. He turns to Michael who just smiles and nods back. "Okay then." He leads them to the side where they can speak in private. "So, what's up?"

"How can I even say this...?" How  _can_ he say this? "Earlier, Sam and I were playing chess and I...let it slip that you weren't feeling the best and that it'd be better if he stayed with me for a while."

"Jesus, Bobby." Dean sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

"Hey, that's not even the worst part. Soon, he started yelling, getting hysterical. I tried to calm him down, but it got worse. He wasn't the kid that I used to take care of, Dean. There was something else too..."

"What?"

Bobby exhales. "I just--Look, before I go on, I want you to know that I get it. What you're trying to do. You're not becoming John, I know this, but back to the matter at hand. At the height of it all...I don't know I just felt a big chill and the chessboard flew off the table. Sam says he did, but I'm not convinced."

Dean listens to everything that Bobby tells him with undivided attention. He doesn't speak for the longest time, only listens. When it's over, he groans, putting his hands on his head. Bobby wants to comfort him, but he knows that'll probably make it worse. Soon, the older Winchester comes back to himself, telling the man to get back to Sam, to check on him. He's worried about his brother, but something isn't adding up. There's a secretive look in Dean's eyes and it forces Bobby to confront him about it.

Away from curious people, he tells Bobby everything about Anna and Azazel, down to Christ and the Antichrist. He warns Bobby to stay away from anyone who might stare at him for too long or someone who seems out of place for they may be Angels or "Denizens of Hell". Right away, Bobby's got red flags about this. If he didn't witness what happened earlier, then he would've had Dean committed to a nut house right then and there. However, he doesn't. He only entertains Dean, telling him that he'll go back and look after Sam, who may or may not be trying to subjugate humanity.

As soon as he gets to his truck, right away Bobby's stopped by a man in a suit. He looks out of...place. Sort of like Dean's description of Azazel. His grin is cocky, like he knows everything that Bobby is thinking right now. The guy smiles as the older man gets away to hop in his car. He starts it up and drives away, looking up at the rear view mirror the whole time. When he takes his eyes off of him for a second, he's gone. However, that proves to not be the case when he appears right next to Bobby in the passenger seat. He stares straight ahead like everything's normal while Bobby slams on the brakes.

"What the hell!?" He shouts. "How the--Get out of my car, now! Before I call the police!'

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Robert." The guy taunts. "You keep driving, or I will make you."

Bobby's not intimidated by this man and he's certainly not going to question how he knows his name, or how he managed to get inside of the car. He tries to get his cell phone, but finds that it's not even in his pocket. Looking over, he sees that the strange man has it, wiggling it around in his hand. Soon, and with one squeeze, the phone shatters, becoming useless. He throws it in the back and checks his watch. He looks to be bored, maybe running on a time limit.  Bobby's just a little freaked out that a strange man is in his car, destroying his stuff and telling him what to do. Fine then. He'll play along, if only to live a little longer. He puts his foot on the gas, causing the car to speed up again.

"That wasn't so hard was it?" The bastard grins. "Now, you're probably wondering who I am and what I want."

Bobby scoffs, hands shaking as he keeps them on the wheel. "Let me guess: Azazel?"

"Right you are, Mr. Singer. I see where Sam gets his quick wit from. Probably from being around you a whole lot. Actually, that's kind of what I wanted to talk about. Sam."

"What about him...?"

"I need you to leave, Mr. Singer." Azazel says calmly. "Leave the Winchesters alone. Go back home and forget about everything. Just live your life like usual."

"Are you out of your mind!?" He yells. "If something big is going down, them I'm sticking with my boys no matter what! If Sam's in trouble, I'm not gonna turn the other cheek. I'm gonna save him."

Azazel sighs, putting his hands in his lap. He seems agitated. "I thought you might say that. Perhaps this'll change your mind."

Suddenly, and all too quickly,  Azazel turns his head. His eyes glow yellow as Bobby unintentionally stares into them. In those eyes, he becomes lost. In those eyes, he sees endless possibilities with only one outcome: Chaos. He sees Sam, standing amongst thousands with banners and posters of him and his name. He's older, way older than his teens. There beside him is Dean, also older. In the distance, there's fire and explosions as Sam commands an army to slaughter innocent men, women and children. As the vision ends, Bobby sees Sam pulls Dean close in a forceful kiss.

When he blinks, he finds out that he's still in his car, but this time, he's parked outside of the house. There's no sign of Azazel, but when he looks back, he sees his phone smashed to pieces on the seat. What he saw can't be described. Or maybe it can. Frightening? Horrific? Terrible? But which part? The killing, the fanaticism, the army, or...the kiss? Bobby was a little suspicious of their relationship now, but that small glimpse into what he perceives to be the future is all the confirmation that he needs. Sam and Dean are in an incestuous relationship with each other. But that's the least of his worries. He'll deal with that later. Right now, he needs to think.

* * *

Over the past few days, Bobby's been actively avoiding Sam. It's obvious to the boy, though Bobby thinks that he couldn't care less about it. Every time he looks at him now he only glares, smiling when Dean's around. If he could say anything about it, he'd say that Sam hates his guts, though even that's quite a stretch. It's just...the way he stares when Dean's not looking, it's disturbing. Despite that, things get back to bring a little normal. Sort of. Bobby can't stop thinking about what he saw, if it was real or just a hallucination.

He can't unsee it. He knows what he saw, in great detail. That was definitely his boys, all grown up and kissing each other. A part of Bobby wants to throttle Dean, to scold him for taking advantage of his sick brother. Another part of him seems to understand that what's going on between them would've happened eventually. It's not okay, not at all, but Bobby understands it. He's not happy with it, and he plans on confronting Dean about it soon...right after he does something about Sam. The man in that vision was cold. He looked like he had no soul and if that's what Sam's gonna grow up to be, then something must be done.

As the week passes by, Bobby feels worse and worse about his plan. He can't do it. He  _can't_ do it, but he  _has_ to. If he does, the world may have a chance to live. If Sam is allowed to thrive, everything will be laid to waste, with him thinking that it's for the good of the world. But it isn't. No, Sam has to be dealt with early. Bobby now knows that John's original course of action was the best one, minus the rape. Bobby, to this day, still has no idea why that happened. Perhaps he'll never know. When the dead is done, Dean will thank him. Probably after grieving, but he'll rest knowing that the world is safe.

Bobby waits for Dean to go to work before continuing his plan. He carries on like normal, acting as if nothing is wrong. The day goes on with only an hour until Dean is supposed to come home. Bobby's nervous, drawing out the inevitable, but he knows that it has to be done. Finally obtaining the courage, he grabs a huge knife from the kitchen drawer, silently sneaking up the stairs. When he nears Sam's room, he overhears the boy talking to someone. That's odd. There's no one here and the house phone is downstairs; they don't have cell phones yet. Pressing his ear to the door, Bobby listens.

"I can't do that!" He hears Sam whisper heatedly. "No matter how much trouble it might be, he's family! I won't do it."

There's another voice as well. It seems familiar. Bobby knows who it is immediately. "Robert is a dangerous man, Sam. I believe that he's going through some sort of change and it's not for the better. You might be in danger."

"He's of no danger to me!"

Bobby chooses to put a stop to this as he knocks on the door. He tries not to let his guilt or conscience get in the way of his duty. "Sam, can I come in?"

There's some fumbling around on the other side of the door before the boy answers. "Yeah. Come in!"

The old man hides the knife behind himself as he walks in. Sam's standing in front of his bed, looking like a thief that's been caught red handed. He's so young, do innocent. Maybe there's a chance that he won't grow up to be this deceitful, monster of a tyrant. Perhaps, with the proper amount of parenting, it can all be prevented--No! It's all set and done. Bobby doesn't believe in fate, but Sam's is already set in stone. Like a movie that you've seen one too many times. You'll always know what the ending has in store and every time, you're powerless to change it.

So there's no going back. Before Sam could ask what Bobby wants, he lunges forward, knife held high. He pins the boy to the bed, huge hand around his throat while the other holds onto the knife. Sam claws at the man's hand on his neck, trying and failing to pry them away. Bobby cries as he plunges the knife down, only to discover that Sam moved his head just in time. The blade sinks into the mattress easily enough, though there's a bit of blood; Sam's ear was slashed on accident. He struggles to get the weapon out of the bed, successfully doing so after sometime. Sam tries to speak, but finds it difficult when someone's squeezing your throat.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy..." Bobby sobs as he raises the knife again.

Right before it hits Sam's eye, it stops. Bobby's horrified to know that he can't make it go down any farther. In fact, he can't move his arm at all. He strains, veins popping out as he tries harder to kill the young boy under him. Eventually, he's tossed backwards onto the wall by an invisible, unseen force. The knife clatter to the floor, useless. Sam gasps as he's finally able to breathe again as Bobby stays pinned to the wall, attempting to get free. The boy slowly climbs off of the bed, hatred coming off of him in deep, depressing waves. Bobby knows what's going to happen now. This is his end. Soon, Sam smirks, eyes becoming pitch black.

"Yes," He says darkly. "This is the end. For you."

His lungs...! He can't breathe. Everything's starting to fade away as spots form in the corners of his vision. Bobby flails his arms and legs out, trying desperately to get out of his invisible bonds. It's all useless. All of his attempts are futile as he feels his heart being squeezed with what feels like a vice. In the end, he thinks only of Dean, of how unlucky and unfortunate he is to have such an evil boy living with him. As he takes his very last breath, Bobby looks at Sam, little Sammy Winchester. He swears that, as his vision fades to black, he sees the boy with a thorned crown and a pair of jet black wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret absolutely nothing! ;)


	11. Kill The Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam talks with Detective Lafitte who's investigating the mysterious deaths that surround him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! :P

Never in a million years did Sam ever think that Bobby would try to hurt him. He was so nice, so gentle and never aggressive towards anyone. He was gruff, but that's all he ever was. Sam's sad because while he was almost murdered by his surrogate father, that was still the man who took over after John was put away. The police said that Bobby had a heart attack. Sam obviously knows better. He killed him. For a moment in time, he called on the darkness surrounding his very soul and it gave him the strength to survive. Is this what Azazel told him about? Did he just unlock the power? If so, then what happens now?

Sam doesn't know, nor does he care to know. He's grieving right along with Dean. Perhaps out of the both of them, Dean loved Bobby the most. The boy loved him too, just not as much. When Dean got home to see the police and ambulance, he immediately shouted for his kid who ran outside to embrace his brother. Sam was distraught, telling him how Bobby went off the deep end, strangling him and trying to stab him. He could tell that Dean was having a hard time believing him. That was until he showed him the huge marks on his neck. That made his story much more believable. He nearly killed Bobby all over again.

This entity, or power that seems to clutch at him, was the only thing that could save him. So far, Sam's been trapped in his own mind, fighting himself on this dangerous, volatile way of behaving. There's been times when he knew that something was against his moral code, but he did it anyway. That's how it's been lately. If he can describe it, he'd say that he's having an internal power struggle, a civil war of sorts. His emotions and ethics are battling each other; right and wrong are fighting for control, though neither seem to be winning. Right now though, Sam would say that wrong might be in the lead. He's said horrible things and wished for bad things to happen to others, such as Jessica and Crowley. He's trying to be a good person, to be the one that "Brings The Light", but the Lightbringer is an evil figure who brings the world in the brink of chaos.

No, he doesn't want to be that guy. Sam doesn't even want to be Christ incarnate, but he cannot deny this feeling inside of him, these powers, and the sudden appearance of this Azazel fellow. He hasn't explicitly stated what he is, though Sam knows. He's a demon of high rank, sent to watch over him. Such beings were thought to have not existed, but apparently they're real and stalking him. They want him to be The Beast, but he won't. If he can keep his emotions and feelings in check, then this'll all blow over. Thinking of Dean helps through all of this. He never leaves him alone now, even taking time off from his job to stay by his side. It's sweet and it let's Sam know that his brother will never abandon him.

Ever.

* * *

Despite Dean's pleas, they end up staying in the house. There's enough traumatic experiences in there to last Sam two lifetimes, so why the fuck are they staying!? Even he can't say no to his boy, so he complies. If Sam thinks that he can handle it, then who is Dean to deny him? It gives him hope that he'll use this as a stepping stone, but that's reaching too far. What's been happening lately cannot be a coincidence. There's been too many deaths, and somehow, Dean thinks that Azazel or Anna might have something to do with them. It can't be Sam, he's just not capable of it. Besides, what happened to Bobby was just a disaster waiting to blossom.

He's disgusted with the man who he had once called family. He tried to killed Sam. But not only that. He tried to kill him exactly where John had tried to kill him. The exact same spot too. If Bobby was still alive, Dean would have to ask. He'd have to ask him why. Why did he do that? Why would he even dream of harming the kid that he had sworn to protect? Dean knows that he'll never get answers to the questions he desperately wants to ask. He tried asking Sam, but the boy couldn't give an answer, only saying that there was a wild look in the man's eyes and that he was pleading for forgiveness before attempting to stab him. Perhaps the weight of what he was about to do took a toll on his health. Maybe it was karma? Whatever it was, Bobby's dead and some sick part of Dean is glad that he is.

* * *

**Two Days Later...**

Sam sits on the couch watching TV with Dean; they're cuddled together, not saying anything. Only silent enjoying each other's company. They haven't exactly been intimate since that one night when Sam chose to let his inhibitions roam free. He wants that again, to be with Dean on a physical level. To touch his body sensually and to kiss him until his lips are swollen red. However, he knows that it'll be a good while until that happens. Dean looks like he's still grieving after all. He's been the most devastated about all of this. It sucks that Sam can't read his mind on the matter. Something is wrong. He can't read his thoughts, nor can he sense his desires. He's immune to his command, sort of. If he tells him to do something, he'll do it, but he won't look confused like the others. It's probably just because he loves him so much.

For the hundredth time during the afternoon, Dean flicks through the channels, not settling on a single show. Sam's not entirely annoyed, but he's getting there. He wants to rip the remote from his brother's hands and make out with him, but he also wants him to have his time, to feel relaxed enough to even be able to change the station. Soon, however, it becomes too much to handle as Sam playfully smacks the remote to the floor. It clatters as the batteries scatter about on the floor. He only grins up happily at Dean who smiles and shakes his head. The TV's stuck on some show about superheroes or something. They aren't paying attention anymore as Dean presses a little kiss to his mouth.

"I'm sorry for the remote." Sam mutters, blushing hard.

"I'll get over it, right?" The blonde laughs. "Besides, you're better than any stupid TV show. You're my Baby Boy."

"Yeah..."

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?"

Sam looks up at him. "Of course...I know that you are too and don't tell me you aren't. You keep looking at me like I'm gonna fall apart. I'm...I'm not..."

"But you don't sound so sure." Dean whispers. "I just--"

"Why didn't you tell me, Dean?"

They haven't talked about it yet. About what Dean and Bobby talked about. About sending Sam off to Sioux Falls with the old man while Dean attempted to get help with a mental illness that he doesn't even have. It's understandable though. Why he did what he did, but the only problem is that he didn't trust Sam enough to tell him first. That's why this hurts so much. He wants to believe that Dean was being selfish because that'll make it better. If he thinks about Dean doing it for him, then he'll crack. He doesn't want to be apart from his older brother! They love each other so much, so why!? Why did he think that sending him off was such a good idea!?

"Because I was afraid." The elder Winchester finally says, sighing. "I didn't tell you because I was afraid of how you'd react."

Sam sits up, staring at Dean with sad eyes. "But at least then I would've tried to understand. You're not crazy, Dean. There's...there's been a lot of things happening that we can't explain lately, but if that means you're insane, then I guess that means I am too. Hell, lock me up with you while you're at it, I don't care!"

"Sam--"

"Just don't leave me!" The boy pleads, sobbing. "I can't...I don't think I'd survive if you weren't here to protect me. I'd die without you, Dean. I'm so scared. Every day, I'm scared. I try to ask myself if I really need this--this life. But I do, and I need you here with me. I can't continue without you, De..."

He should've expected the hug that Dean gives him. It's tight, boarding on too much and too deadly. Eventually, he relaxes his grip, tears threatening to leave those gorgeous, green orbs. Those tears that cling make his eye color seem more prominent, more defined. Dean tries to blink them back, but one manages to snake its way out, falling down and prompting Sam to swipe it with his thumb. He caresses both of Dean's cheeks with his hands. His skin is warm and his stubble is a bit scratchy, but he's perfect in every aspect. There aren't any outward flaws on him, not a single one. When he speaks, it breaks Sam's heart a little. His voice is slightly hoarse.

"I'll never leave you." Dean vows. "I'll always be wherever you want me to be. I promise. Sammy, I--I'll be better, okay? I'll try my best to never let you down. You have me. I'm not going anywhere. You'll always have me. Just don't cry, Sammy. I love you. I love you so much."

The boy can't even say anything back as Dean surges foward to kiss desperately at him. Sam instinctively wraps his arms around Dean's neck, savoring every motion. On this small couch, he slots himself in between Sam's legs, nipping and biting at his neck in a daring bid for control. The teen cards a few fingers in his lover's hair when they come up for air, gazing longingly into each other's eyes. Just as Dean is about to say something more, the doorbell rings, causing the pair to groan outwardly. The man reluctantly removes himself from Sam, standing up to make sure that he looks presentable; Sam does too.

He stands, taking to Dean's side when he opens the door. Sam recognizes him, though he doesn't know his name. He's been spotted around whenever there's been a death. His hair is in the style of a buzzcut, dark. His beard matches, but it's a little on the scruffy side. He's handsome, but definitely not Sam's type. He looks more like a  _bear_ than a human. An angry, somewhat impatient bear. The man smiles, showing his badge before speaking. A few teeth are pointed at the ends, but they're all white. Every single one of them. Something about him rubs the boy the wrong way. It's probably the power singing in his blood. That's probably it. It's gotta be that.

"Good Afternoon." He says. "I'm Detective Lafitte from the Lawrence County Police Department. Do you mind of I come in and ask a few questions?"

"Uh," Dean hesitates. "Suuure...come on in."

This definitely wasn't expected. They haven't talked to the police at all during their time here. He must be here to talk about all of these deaths, maybe information about Bobby's motivations towards the attack. Dean leads Detective Lafitte inside, manually turning off the TV. Sam trails behind, sitting on the couch soon after. The cop sits near him on the recliner, groaning as he sets himself down. As Dean sits next to his boy, Sam knits his eyebrows together. This cop...he's clean as a whistle. No obvious flaws or imperfections that show. Perhaps if he digs deeper into his mind he'll find something. He flashes Sam a sad, little grin, all teeth again. It's unsettling, like a wolf. It reminds him of Matt.

Rage presses against his gut, fighting to get out, but Sam only twitches his neck slightly, struggling for control. The only one who notices this is the strange detective in his home, though he pretends not to notice. That's fine. Just as long as it isn't addressed. He's got a couple tattoos on his arms, but one in particular is starting irritate Sam. All in black and on the man's forearm, is a cross, symbolizing the Christian faith. So, he's a believer? Or did he think that it just looked "cool" or something? He looks like the type to believe in something if he sees it. He clears his throat, posturing himself after stretching. The action shows off his gun in it's holster. Looks standard issue.

"Sorry for arriving here so suddenly." The man says, sighing. "I just need to get some things settled and such."

Dean nods. "Yeah. It's okay."

"Alright, let's get started. So Mr. Winchester, how long have you both known Mr. Singer?"

"Um, all our lives really. He is... _was_ a friend of our father's. He was like a brother to him and we called him Uncle Bobby."

Detective Lafitte pulls out a small notepad, scribbling down some notes. Sam doesn't question it. "I see. So, do you have any idea as to why he'd want you dead, Sam? Did he say anything to you prior to suffering from a convenient heart attack?"

Sam frowns. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Nothing. I was only asking if he said anything to you."

"No. It was hard to hear much while my throat was being squeezed. He did say sorry though. Probably because he thought he was going to kill me."

"Yet here you are, safe and sound."

The boy's eyes turn to slits. What the hell is this? Dean comes to his aid though. "Detective, what are you saying?"

"May I talk with Sam in private?" He asks. "It'll only be for a second, I assure you."

"Dean, it's okay." Sam says when he sees his brother's jaw twitch. He surprises himself at his words. "I'll be alright."

Sam knows that there's an internal struggle within Dean about whether or not to leave him alone with this cop. If he was Dean, he'd be skeptical too, but this time is different. He can feel it. He sits there silently as the blonde Winchester kisses his forehead--a very familiar, very loving gesture--and gets up to head into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder once more at it melts his heart. Sam sighs through his nostrils, resting one leg over the other. Mr. Lafitte flexes his muscles unconsciously, presumably. It's unknown to Sam if it was intentional or not, but the way that he looks at him seems to confirm something.

At just like that, Sam knows. He knows every dirty little secret within this man's heart. Every filthy desire. Every sick fascination. He knows it all. And right here, right now, Sam knows that he's among them all. It's strange. This cop has sworn to protect innocents and whatnot, but he secretly desires to have one locked in his basement as his little play thing. He's picturing Sam naked and begging to be ravaged while being handcuffed from behind on the cold, hard floor of his basement. Somewhere in his mind, Sam's screaming, calling out to Dean. But his heart is saying another thing. That Mr. Lafitte can be useful. That he can offer him something, though he knows not what that is yet.

"So," Sam attempts to stay calm. "Mr. Lafitte..."

"Please, call me Benny." He smiles.

"Okay. Benny. If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you want to talk to me about?"

Benny grins, tucking away his notepad. "I just wanted to have a chat about things. There's been a lot of deaths here, Sam. Some have been more...messy than others, but it all remains the same. They were someone you knew, or have known."

Sam licks his lips, smiling. "Detective--"

"Benny."

"Right.  _Benny_. What exactly are you implying? Because it seems like you're implicating me."

"Heh." He chuckles. "Am I? I suppose that it kinda sounds like it. I'm just saying that it's a little weird. Don't you think so? I mean, Matthew Carson mysteriously dies in the middle of your...situation and so does Bobby Singer. You were also seen talking to Jessica Moore and Tyson Brady prior to their deaths in a local department store. Security cameras work wonders these days. It also comes to my attention that you were seen coming out of the bathroom at your high school. The same bathroom that Fergus Crowley killed himself in the same day. Now, for my question. Did you kill those people?"

Did he kill those people? That's a very good question. Yes, he did, but Benny doesn't know that. Though, the others, besides Bobby, technically weren't his doing. That's a lie actually, even if it was all unconscious. Every single one of those bastards deserved it. Shit! That's the darkness inside talking. Everyone deserves to live just as much as him. Who is he to decide on who dies? So yeah, he acknowledges that he murdered those people or, at the very least, influenced them to die, but he'll do better. There will be no more deaths. No more suffering...but.

There's Benny Lafitte, a man who's becoming obsessed with him by the second. A man who has tied up, kidnapped, and raped several boys such as Sam himself. A man who seeks love and affection, but does it in the wrong way. He doesn't deserve to die. He deserves mercy, or something like that. Benny, perhaps, deserves to be forgiven for his sins. Wait, what? This is crazy. He's starting to sound like...well, just like...Christ? No. He's not the Messiah and he damn sure isn't the opposite of Christ. He's just...a person of power. Someone who might be able to change the world in epic ways. This is the lie that he'll continue to tell himself over and over again until it becomes the truth. He's scared.

Sam leans forward, smirking. "I could never kill someone, Detective."

"There's something special about you, Sam," Benny grunts as he gets up, walking towards the door. "Something different. I know that you're linked to these deaths...and I'm gonna find out how."

The teenager follows him to the door and bites his lip, looking at him up and down before their eyes meet again. "Be careful, Detective. If what you're saying is true, then I'd watch my back if I were you. Mysterious things happen to others around me. You know, deaths and such..."

"Are you threatening an officer, Mr. Winchester?"

"Of course not. I'm only informing a handsome man the dangers of crossing the line. You might want to stop looking at me like a piece of meat as well." Sam laughs quietly when he sees Benny's Adam's apple bob. "If that's all then I would really like to get back to my show."

"Ye--Yeah." The Detective mumbles. "I'll, uh, keep in touch. Have a good day, Mr. Winchester."

Sam watches as Benny trudges down the pathway to his car. He looks over at him one last time before starting up the vehicle. As he drives away, the boy thinks of ways to make Benny break. Or, perhaps, to make him submit to his very will. It seems that he has a weakness towards Sam, even he doesn't know it yet. He'll use this to his advantage because honestly, he's fascinated by this man. Sam shuts the door and locks it, finding Dean standing in the archway that separates the kitchen from the living room. His eyes are asking a million questions and Sam wants to answer every last one of them, but he knows that he can't.

Instead, he grasps Dean's hand and leads them up the stairs. The young man is confused, asking about what he's doing, but Sam says nothing. Soon, they reach Dean's room and the boy pushes him onto the bed, attacking his lips with his own. Their tongues find each other, wiggling and sliding together in a dance of wills. Eventually, Dean flips them over so that he's on top as he removes their clothes. They grind on each other, both naked as Sam commands him to go all the way. Though extremely against the idea, Dean gives in, probably because his dick is crying out for attention. In no time flat, and with a lot of preparation, he's sheathed inside of his kid, gasping at the intense heat.

Sam too gasps, writhing at the immense pleasure that his brother is giving him. It feels amazing to connect with Dean like this, knowing that this is all that he'll ever want. Just Sam and no one else. Just as his orgasm builds up to a crescendo, he pants Dean's name. The man finishes up soon after, pulling out to unload over Sam's chest. He collapses on him soon after, lazily kissing him. It's then that the boy starts thinking of Benny Lafitte. He's going to prove quite meddlesome in the near future, Sam knows this. Perhaps he'll have to do something about that first. He doesn't want him dead, oh no, he wants him to be on his side, fighting with him, not against him. If Sam had to choose, Benny would be one of the Four Horsemen. One of the most known.

War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Sam is currently fighting against himself in terms of what he perceives to be right and wrong. Stay tuned for more! :)


	12. Sleepwalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to put a stop to whatever Benny's planning, Sam takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean POV ahead.

We've finally done it...and it felt great. I'm surprised actually. It had hurt a couple of times, but Dean was careful. When I gasped or whimpered, he stopped doing what he was doing. He often said that he'd stop completely if he wanted me to, but each time I shut him up with my mouth. I know that even now I'm blushing as I lay with him in this bed. He's asleep after several rounds of lovemaking. Typical. I'm so lucky that I have him. Anyone would! He's amazing, so hot. So funny and so outspoken. I wouldn't trade him for anything in this godawful world. Not a single thing. Not even a hot shower which sounds great right about now. Dean groans softly as I carefully remove myself from his grasp, hugging the pillow instead. It's cute. Like a wolf cuddling a fox.

I trudge off naked to the bathroom with a towel over my shoulder. I feel kinda free doing this. I know that it's wrong to do that kind of thing with your family, but Dean's different. He's not just my brother, he's my entire world. He's above the ethereal spectrum that separates strangers and loved ones. Like...soulmates maybe? I don't know, that's just what it feels like. I clean myself to the best of my abilities, washing off every trace of what Dean and I had done...multiple times. If things keep going the way that they're going, then soon Dean and I will be having sex all around the house and I'm not so sure about that. As long as he takes it slow and we stay out of John's old study and bedroom, I'm okay. There's another thing on my mind, or rather  _someone_.

This Benny Lafitte is an interesting person. He dabbles in a lot of things ranging from rape to full on sadistic stuff. I'm amazed that he hasn't been caught yet; there were a string of kidnappings in the next town over. I know that it's him. I saw everything. Benny's damaged, but not dammed. He can be salvaged, he isn't a total lost cause. If I can convince him to come to my side, that'd be excellent. But even I'm not sure about my own side, though I'm not gonna get into that again. I haven't seen Azazel around since Bobby died and I still can't see into Dean's mind. It's frustrating. What makes him so special to be immune to my powers? And why am I hiding them from him? These are good questions and we both need to have a talk about certain things, but not now.

No, I need to go out for a bit to see someone. After my shower, I go into my other bedroom, quickly putting on clothes without much drying off. I shuck into my jeans and sneakers, deciding to put on my hoodie without a shirt. I look into Dean's room as I zip it up. He seems so peaceful while taking a nap. He wouldn't be too happy with me sneaking out, but I know what I'm doing. I'm trying to make my life a little better--our lives. Surely he can understand that. If he can't, then I don't know what else to do. At some point, if something else happens, we'll probably move away from here again. I don't know where, but I feel as though that won't be a problem. If Lucifer is my father, then it's only a matter of time before he flashes before me. The same can be said about God, the almighty force behind the events in the Old Testament.

I shut the door very quietly, slinking down the stairs. It's in the late afternoon, so sooner or later, Dean's gonna wake up panicking. I have to hurry up and get this done. What  _it_ is, I'm not sure, but I need to do this. Benny's not gonna hurt me. Not while I'm the supposed son of a powerful deity. If I pray hard enough, my father would send down an army of angels (or demons) to assist me. Oh, God, I've gone insane. Truly insane...but Azazel made a very convincing case during that one visit to my house. I have...grace in my system? What is that? It comes frrom Lucifer? It must be bad then...right? Well, it doesn't sound like it. After all, he originally was an Angel of The Lord, cast down for his arrogance and for starting a rebellion in Heaven. If everything that Azazel has said is true, then technically, I  _am_ related to God. I'd be his...grandson...

* * *

I know everything. I know where he lives, what he does when he wakes up in the morning, and who he talks to daily. That's why it's so easy to find him. His house isn't so bad. It's not as big as ours, but it's big enough for a single man with romantic issues. I put my hands in my pockets, slowly walking up to the front door. I knock on thr door twice because the doorbell looks a bit busted. He might need to get that fixed soon. After waiting for nearly a minute, I decide to gain access myself. Just because I will it to, the lock clicks and I let myself inside. I've unlocked my powers and now I feel like I can do anything. I'm sorta grateful for Bobby almost killing me, otherwise I wouldn't feel what I feel now. 

Right before he nearly plunged that blade inside of me, I felt a switch in my brain go off. I knew then what I had to do and how to do it. I had to protect myself by any means necessary. I've read about what's been happening to me and I gotta say, it's a little...disconcerting. I'm a freak, but most people would call me a miracle. Others, that fear what I am, would call me a Witch, the Devil, (close) or a Psychic. I'm not any of those things. I'm not ordinary. I walk through the threshold leading into the house, closing the door behind me. It's bigger inside than it looks outside...and it's way too quiet. Suddenly, I look to the stairs as I hear someone bounding down them. It's Detective Lafitte, pistol drawn and hair a mess. He's wearing a white tank top with khakis, barefoot.

He looks at me, startled and puts his gun away, tucking it in the back of his pants. Benny sighs, making his way all the way down. His hair is a damn wreck; he must've been sleeping. He and Dean just love sleeping in the day, don't they? He groans as he takes the last few steps down, looking between me and the front door. I already know what he's thinking about and I'm not even looking into his head. It's pretty obvious that he's wondering how I got into his house and I'll gladly give him an explanation, but first I wanna talk to him. Just for a little bit. Then I'll do what I came here to do.

"What a pleasant surprise." Benny grunts, rubbing his tired eyes. "You're already a person of interest. You wanna add trespassing up there too? Or breaking and entering?"

"I came here," I begin, looking around the place. It's not much to look at. "Because I just wanted to talk. Have a little...alone time with you, Detective."

He smiles, but it looks more like a hungry smirk. "I told you, Sam. It's Benny. Just call me Benny. And you know..." He steps into my space, rubbing my arm in a sensual manner. "I could arrest you. Right here, right now. Have you handcuffed from behind and just... _take you in_."

Benny's not being very subtle right now. But even I don't think that that's what he's going for. He want me to know that he wants me, though I'm not giving him shit. If he wants me, he's gonna have to come and get it. I step away and slip past him, walking to the kitchen. I take a quick look to my right and see the door leading to the basement. My head fills with visions of young men screaming down there, begging for their lives as they're forcibly taken from behind by the bearded man following quietly behind me. I know what he's doing. I know everything. He's planning on knocking me out while I'm distracted, taking my body and throwing me down there. That's not about to happen. Now now, not ever.

I twist around with my hand outstretched just as he's about to strike me with what looks like a police baton. I'm not really expelling any power, but he stops anyway, looking at me with his eyes wide. Benny doesn't put his arm down; the baton sits in his hand. Suddenly, I feel strange. Like someone is speaking through me. I know that it's really me, but it's how I feel. I'm  _drawing_ from someone, more like  _channeling_. My tone is full of assertiveness, full of understanding and forgiveness. The darkness that surrounds my heart lifts up and it's replaced with something else. Happiness maybe? No, something more than that--no, less. Something that has the same effect as judgmental. I can...pass judgement?

"You are forgiven, Mr. Lafitte." I say with a sort of monotonous tone. "I absolve you of your past and future sins. You are loved, despite how you may have felt in the past. You've been loved for as long as you've existed, you just haven't accepted it yet. I can give you love, Benjamin, if you only allow me to. Follow me out of the darkness and into the light. You'll never need to know what it feels like to be alone anymore. You'll always have me to rely on. No more boys to hurt. No more suffering. No more pain. Just say yes to me. Just say  _yes_..."

He's shocked by my words. I am too. He drops the baton and it clatters to the linoleum of the kitchen floor. Soon, Benny sinks to his knees, crying with tears streaming down his face. He feels free right now, whole. Not exactly clean, but like a huge weight has been lifted up from him. It makes me want to hug him tight. So, that's exactly what I do. He get down to his level and embrace him, shushing him and smoothing his hair back, not unlike how Dean does for me. We stay there on the floor with me comforting him for nearly ten minutes, until I get up, helping him up too. I lead him out of his house as he silently sobs next to me.

I notice that it's a little later than when I first arrived. The sky has gotten a bit darker and I'm guessing that Dean's either awake and searching frantically for me, or he's gonna wake up soon and panic. It doesn't matter right now. What matters is that Benny is gonna be okay from now on. I release his hand as we near his lawn. I take off my sneakers, stepping barefoot on the grass. I nod at him and he follows me further out onto the grass. I feel the wind blowing through the trees and past my hair. I feel everything. I know everything. I look up to the sky and will the clouds to converge together. And as I will this, they do. Dark clouds form and the sound of thunder and lightning clash. I stretch my arms out to the sky as I scream,

"Give me water, for I am thirsty!"

Almost immediately, rain begins to drop down from the very sky. It starts in short spurts, but it soon turns into heavy torrents. We're drenched, wet from the rain, however, I know that Benny's still sobbing. He just witnessed the impossible two times over. I've gained a follower...and it feels amazing. If I can obtain additional people, I can surely make a huge difference in this place. No more fear, no more corruption. Just peace. Peace and prosperity. I'll make the world a better one. It'll get the reform it deserves. I won't fulfill some New Testament prophecy. I'll do things my way. Not as Christ or the Antichrist, but as Samuel Winchester, the boy who potentially might have angel blood in his system. I need a word with Azazel soon...and Dean. It's time that he knows about what I can do.

* * *

I'm fucking freaking out right about now. Sam's gone and I can't find him anywhere. He should've been in the bed with me, but he's not and I'm have a panic attack. This isn't like him to just up and leave without telling me. I've searched every corner of this goddamn house nearly seventeen times in the last twenty minutes. He's not here. I decide to sweep wider, going door to door to check and see if he's at a neighbor's house. I curse at myself; of course he's not at a neighbor's house. Sam's distrustful of most people anyway, so why exactly would he even consider that? I honestly have no other option now. I have to see if they've at least seen him. I can't lose my baby brother when he's the one that keeps me grounded. I love him do fucking much that it hurts. It starts to rain out of nowhere. That's odd.

After checking every house in a two mile radius, I go back home. I gotta call the police, report him as missing or something. However, just as I get to the house phone in the kitchen, I see Sammy sitting at the table, soaking wet from the rain. His hair sticks to his forehead and his teeth chatters a little, but despite all of that, he smiles at me, hazel eyes bright and dimples popping out. I put the phone back down, choosing to almost tackle my idiot of a brother to the ground. He's so smart that he's dumb. I'm still the oldest after all. After hugging him, I kiss him deeply like someone who hasn't seen their lover in years. He allows me to, moaning a little in the process. I pull apart, nearly blinded by lust, but I need him to explainto me where he's been. 

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, Sammy." I keep my voice even. I don't wanna scare him. "I thought that--Well, I thought that you ran away from me. I thought I did something wrong..."

Sam gives me a saddened smile. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry I made you worry. It won't happen again."

"Good...do you, uh, do you mind telling me where you've been then? I was worried about you."

"I..." He puts his head down, hiding his face. That won't do. I lift it up gently with one hand, prompting him to continue. "I went to see Detective Lafitte at his house..."

I frown because that guy's a grown man. "What? Why'd you go there?"

"Because I went to recruit him, Dean." Sam so casually tells me. "I need him on my side. There's...a lot that you need to know. We need to have a talk."

"Recruit? Sammy, I don't understand. And what's this about sides? Have you been talking to someone?"

I honestly didn't know what to expect. I didn't expect for the the kitchen table to float seamlessly into the air along with several other objects surrounding us. The chairs, some silverware, dishes and even the clock on the wall was effected by what's happening; each hand spins off in different directions, speeding up each time. The windows in the room open and close by themselves, but now I realize something important. John was right. There's no spirit or ghost in my house. It really is Sam doing this. And he's proving it to me right now. The whole time that this phenomena is taking place, he looks at me, afraid, a single tear rolls down his right cheek. What's he afraid of? Rejection? No matter who or  _what_ Sam is, he's still my brother and I love him unconditionally.

Soon, everything ceases and gravity takes over once again. Everything flops to the ground, some glass objects shatter. Sam flinches when this happens and he breathes shakily. I know what he's thinking right now even if I don't have those...whatever it is that he has. He's afraid that I'll disown him...or worse. But I'm not. I can't do that and while what he did just scares the living shit outta me, I'm gonna love him anyway. I get flashbacks of Anna and Azazel, both of their voices in each of my ears. I don't see a malevolent being in front of me. No, I see a scared kid who needs to be taken care of properly. I'm sure that there's an explanation for how he's doing this, but for right now, I'm just scared shitless for my boy. Or am just...scared shit less for myself? For being under the same roof as boy who can manipulate objects with his mind.

I block all of that out as I close the distance between us. When I kiss him, I'm actually telling him that everything is okay. That I'll love him no matter what he can do. He's still wet from the rain, but I can fix that. I carry him up the stairs and into the shower, taking off both of our clothes. I hop into the hot water first, carting him in after me. We kiss passionately under the spray of water; I can't stop my hands from wandering. After we're clean, I dry us off and we get back into bed together. I make love to him like I've never done before. I don't hold back, but I'm getting the sense that Sam likes it like that. I'm happy for a majority of reasons, but then, as we climax and head to sleep again, I feel an overwhelming sense of dread fall over me. I understand it a little now.

The mysterious deaths aren't looking so mysterious anymore...and I think already know what this talk will be about soon. That night I dream of sunshine and light, with Sam at the center. He took the sun right out of the sky for me and smiled. Then, his smile turns demonic, unnaturally so. He's dresses in all white and he suddenly turns older, more masculine. There's plenty of stubble on him and he caresses my cheek with a huge hand. He's saying something, but I can't hear him. I can read his lips though. After that, I wake up prematurely, startling Sam from his own sleep. I reassure him that everything's okay and he peacefully falls back asleep. I lay here, in the dark, feeling anxious. Those words...

_"Say yes to me. You have no choice. Only I can save you. Say yes, Dean..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! ;) Stay tuned for more updates! Check out the other works while you wait! :D <3


	13. Your Guardian Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean deals with the aftermath of Sam revealing his powers to him.
> 
> Azazel and Anna drop by to visit the pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! (Comment/Give Kudos/Subscribe!)

Sam can tell that Dean's nervous, and that's okay. He has every right to be a little scared of him. But it still hurts. He only wants his brother to love him unconditionally without having to be afraid of what he can do. They sit at the table in the morning, both if them not saying a single word. They agreed to have a talk about everything that's happened, but neither of them want to be the first to day anything. Dean keeps glancing between Sam and the table, probably hoping that the table won't fly into the air again. This causes the youngest of the two to laugh unintentionally. He clasps his hand over his mouth, but it's too late. Dean snaps out of his thoughts then, going back to his regular, cocky grin. It's a little crooked; lopsided. He's still nervous. It's strange. Sam can feel his...heartbeat. It's too fast.

"What's so funny, Sammy?" Dean asks. "I got something on my face?"

"N--No." He says, stammering. "I was just thinking about something."

"Like what?"

"Nothing important."

"Anything you say or think about is important to me."

Sam smiles, though it's a bit forced. "I know you mean that, but I have my doubts. Just like you have doubts about me."

"I...I don't have doubts about you." Dean responds quietly. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I can't see into your heart. I don't know what you want, Dean, and I never will unless I ask I guess." The boy swallows a huge lump in his throat. "I can... _see_ people's desire. Their fears, their everything. I hate it so much, but I can't really do anything about it. The only one that I can't see is yours. You're blocked off from me and I don't know why..."

He can tell that this information is a little trying towards Dean, yet he's powerless to do anything about it. It makes Sam feel terrible knowing that he's causing stress to him. This power tugs at his very insides and he can feel it growing a little more each day. It's scary. And there's one other thing. There's an outside force at play here. Azazel. Sam doesn't know if there's more of him, but he definitely wouldn't count that out. After all, there can't be only one demon in Hell, let alone the entire planet. Dean's thinking about something, but as usual, Sam silently grits his teeth because he doesn't know what it is. He's probably enjoying this right now, being able to plot things without his brother's knowledge. It's almost enough to make him go insane. Luckily, he doesn't as he would rather not become like his father.

That's when Sam feels it. A sliver of a memory. It's faint and it's coming from Dean, but it's there and it passes as quickly as it appears. He was with John, but it wasn't years ago. No, this was recent. Very recent. It all makes sense now. The day that Dean left that note saying that he had important things to do. He lied. He never lies. What else is he hiding? Sam has no idea and that scares him. He shouldn't have to be afraid of his brother, yet he is in secret. When Dean sighs and reaches across the table for his hand, he silently puts it into his lap, eyes never leaving his. There's a questioning look on his face. Sam's own face is even, though not for long. His poker face falls and he frowns, eyes slightly watering. He's crying. His brother lied, but he can't hate him. No. He can't hate him. He'll never hate Dean.

"Sammy, I..." Dean begins, but he stops to clear his throat when his voice cracks. "I don't even...I can't even begin to try and make sense of this. We have a lot to talk about, like you said. I wanna...I wanna ask you a few questions if that's okay. Is it okay? Because I really need some answers..."

Sam picks his nails out of view. "I'll try to answer them as truthfully and quickly as possible."

"Okay. That's...good. That's good. So, I, uh, You can do things...weird things. Like, with your mind and stuff. I have to ask...did you...did you kill those people? Even--Even Uncle Bobby, Sam?"

He sees Dean's eyes and they're begging for him to say no. Sam closes his eyes and turns his head because he can't look his brother in the eye at this time. "Even if I say no, you wouldn't believe me..."

"But...why? I mean, Bobby was our family! He took us in when--!"

Seriously? Is Dean really this dense? Sam looks back at him, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. His voice is even and low. "He tried to kill me, Dean. I did what I had to do to save myself. I saw everything inside of his heart the moment he came at me. He wanted me dead."

"I'm just trying to make sense of this."

"Well, you can't." Sam sighs, getting annoyed. "And it kinda sounds like you don't believe me when I say that it was self defense."

Dean clenches his jaw. "I'm not saying that and you know it! What about the others? I need to know everything. From the beginning."

There's determination in his voice. He won't rest until he gets answers. That's fine. After Sam's done answering, he'll have to ask Dean some questions of his own. He's definitely hiding a shit ton of secrets and it's not healthy. At least the teen has the decency to come clean right now. At this rate, it seems that Dean won't tell him anything, probably under the pretense of "protecting him". Bullshit. He's not that scared  Sixteen Year Old anymore! He's different. Changed. Empowered by his father's blood and grace...if the story is true, that is. Azazel claims that Lucifer is his true father, but where's the proof? It comes off as crazy, though the believable type of crazy. Unless his holy--or  _unholy_ \--father shows his face, Sam won't make any assumptions.

"You know how it started." Sam sadly states. The smile on his face is anything but happy as he trudges painfully down memory lane. "It started with...with John. It was just a normal day, ya know? My birthday weekend. We had fun, you and I. Him too for a bit. He seemed...distant. More so than usual. His drinking was getting worse around that time. You remember, but, um, yeah...it was bad. That night, after you said goodbye to go out with friends, I heard my door crack open. I was half asleep, I remember like it was yesterday. I thought it was you, so I just...I just kept laying there. Then I felt  _his_ hands on me. It was so fast that--that I didn't know how to react. The rope and--and the smell of the whiskey in the air as he put his weight on me..."

"Sammy," Dean hesitates. He notices the glazed over look in his lover's hazel eyes. "You don't have to go on. It's okay."

Sam shakes his head. "I do...I do have to go on because if I don't, I'll break. For real this time. He cut off my clothes with that knife he had and I just remember thinking that I was going to die. I tried asking him what he was doing, but he only said that the purity of my being had to be wiped. I still have no idea what that means. Then, he got naked and he...he did those things to me and I kept screaming. I screamed so loud and so long until my voice was hoarse. I couldn't do anything. After he was done, he called me names. Evil, The Beast, Destroyer. But just as he was about to kill me, you came in and saved me, Dean...just like you did all those years ago..."

"And I'll save you a million times more if I get the chance." Dean nods, eyes watering. "But what about the others?"

"I prayed for someone or something to save me from Matt." The boy confesses. "He was hurting me just like John and I just couldn't take it. I'm not sure if I actually killed him, but I know that I'm partially responsible. Then there was Crowley. He wouldn't shut up...he kept pushing me with his taunts. I just... _snapped_. I told him to kill himself and...I watched him do it. I walked out right after and finished the school day. Jessica and Brady weren't my friends. Not at all. She and him were talking about me behind my back, accusing me of wanting attention. It's the opposite! But that doesn't matter. It was the day that you went to work when school was canceled that I decided to leave the house. I had to get out. I saw them and confronted them about their sins."

Dean scrunches his brows. "Sins? What does that even mean? Sam, what does that mean!?"

"I told you, I can see people's desires. Jessica was a bad person, just like her boyfriend. His mother wished that he would die every day as she drank away her problems. If they went down the path to self destruction any longer, then they would've done even worse things. So, I compelled them to die. I was easy...I just...told them to do it. Just like Crowley."

"I saw her die that day, Sammy." Dean nearly sobs and it has the younger boy feeling bad. "I thought that she was just suicidal or something. The look on her face as she walked out in traffic it was...she wasn't right...and I...just let it happen."

Sam looks down. "Do you hate me?"

That's a great question because right now, Sam's seriously starting to feel that Dean does in fact, hate him. Even if he knows that it's physically impossible for his brother to do so, anything is possible. He's living proof of this. Sam doesn't look up as he hears Dean get out of his chair to kneel down next to him. It isn't long until he gently raises the boy's head, making him stare into his beautiful, green eyes. They're truly breathtaking, changing to different colors in certain lights. So does Sam's eyes, but it's not about him now. But it actually kinda is about him--about the both of them. It's their lives that are hanging in the balance. The balance of what? The fate of the world? They still have so much to talk about, but Sam figures that Dean's had his fill for the day.

"I could never hate you." He huffs. "And I'm a little hurt that you'd think I was capable of such a thing. You're my everything, Sam. I honestly don't know what I would do without you in my life. Most people would call me a deviant or disgusting for feeling this way about you, but I don't care. I have you the way I want you and I don't ever wanna let you go. I can learn, Sammy. I can try to understand why you did what you did. I promise you that I'll try. I can't hate you. I love you. Just...no more secrets, okay? No more secrets."

"No more secrets." Sam affirms, falling into his brother's arms.

They kiss like they're dying and that's okay. They've kept a lot of secrets from each other ever since moving back to this fucking city; they each know of something that the other doesn't. Sam knows that Dean went to see John and why, but he's not pissed. If anything, he's happy that he left to figure out what was happening in their house. Now that Dean knows about Sam's psychic powers, maybe he'll relax a little bit more. It seems unlikely at the moment, yet he has hope that he'll see his side of things. Dean breaks away, smiling softly when Sam touches his slightly bearded cheek. He's definitely getting one now. It's getting a little thick. He needs to shave soon. It has Sam thinking about growing one of his own. Probably when he's older. Like, late twenties older.

In the middle of their cute moment, a third person suddenly appears in the archway, eating an apple. Sam quickly turns his head to see that it's Azazel. At first, he's terrified because he hasn't talked with Dean about him yet and he might assume that he's an intruder; he is technically. However, just as the teen looks to his brother, he sees that he's sharing a keen gaze of familiarity. It quickly changes to shocked and his eyes become wider. He grabs Sam's hand a little too hard and leans in to whisper if this is real, eyes never leaving Azazel's smirking form. It seems like they've met before. But where? Soon, Sam's suspicions are confirmed when Azazel starts talking in that condescending tone of voice.

"Deany Boy! Long time, no see." The demon hums, munching happily on the red fruit. "Sadly, this is real. Hey, Sam. You look...refreshed. I see that you've unlocked that power we've talked about."

"Wait, you know him?" Both of the Winchesters say in unison. "Well, it's complicated." They say again, looking at each other. "Stop doing that."

"Sam Winchester wears make up!"

"Dean Winchester sucks in bed!"

"I do _not_ suck in bed!" Dean squeals. His voice becomes unnaturally high for someone like himself. "How dare you? I'm amazing!"

Sam scoffs. "You said that I wear make up! I  _don't_ wear make up!"

Azazel whistles loud, gaining their attention once more. "Uh, hey. Yeah, I'm still here guys. You know, just in case you wondering."

"What do you want?" The older Winchester growls, glaring at him. "You...what are you? And--and Sam can see you? You guys talked about stuff? What the hell is going on!? So, I'm not crazy after all?"

The boy crosses his arms. "He's a demon of the highest order, sent by Lucifer to watch over me as I grow up. But that wasn't always true. He's a fallen angel who sided with Lucifer during the rebellion in Heaven."

"How eloquently put, Lightbringer." Azazel grins. "You must've done your research. I always knew that you were the smartest one. Dean's okay, but his intelligence level is a little below average, whereas your's is--"

"I'm right here!" Dean grunts. "I'm literally  _right here_."

"I noticed. And I just wanna say that I'm so impressed with the two of you. Your relationship with each other is a little...unorthodox in the eyes of others, but I see it as a good thing. Because of you, Dean, Sam's growing into the young man that we've always wanted him to. It won't be long now until your father comes to see you. Your  _real_ father."

This is all so sudden. Sam feels extremely awkward right about now because Azazel is continuously throwing hints about Lucifer to Dean. This isn't right! He should be the one to tell him everything, not some babysitting Demon who killed their mother. Oh fuck. If Dean finds out about Azazel murdering their mom, then he'll do something incredibly stupid. He can't know of this. Ever. Sam feels the man tense up at the mention of his real father. Dean's heart is racing so fast right now. Too fast. Usually, when this happens, they're either happy, stressed, pissed or dying. Sam quickly deduces that his brother's increased heart rate has something to do with him being pissed and stressed. He can only imagine why.

"That other chick said something different." Dean sneers.

Sam asks because he's gotta know. "Other chick? What are you talking about? There's more of you, Azazel?"

"Of course there's more of him and his sick kind." A woman's voice sounds in the room.

Everyone's head turns, and they all look upon a red haired woman in a nicely made suit. It surprisingly looks good on her. Built for her frame. She's a little pale, but other than that, Sam would say that she's "pretty". She is definitely someone who Dean  _wouldn't_ sleep with. Looking down at her hand, he notices that she's holding onto a long, silver blade. It's design is...familiar. Like an elongated version of the dagger that John tried to kill him with. Why's she holding it? There's only explanation. This woman's ready for a fight and she is not gonna leave until the deed has been done. Azazel smirks, standing in front of Sam and Dean and raises his arm as if he's protecting them. This causes both of the Winchesters to glance at each other quickly before Dean frowns.

"Anna." He and Azazel speak together.

Sam bites the inside of his cheek. Who is this woman? She looks about ready to end his life. "You know her? How do you know her?"

Dean sighs. "She came to me...like she did with John. She's an angel and she believes that you're Jesus Christ incarnate, Sam. John went crazy that night cause she also told him that there was a possibility if you being the Antichrist as well."

"It is no longer a possibility." Anna says, toying with the tip of the triangular blade. "It is a fact. I was wrong about you, Samuel Winchester. We all were. And I will not leave until your blood has been spilt all over these floors."

The demon that's separating them and her chuckles darkly, shaking his head. "You can certainly try to harm him...but I don't think Dean would like that too much. Right, Dean?"

It's at this moment that the eldest brother moves from beside his lover, to in front of him, standing there defensively like Azazel. "I'm not letting anyone touch my kid, my boy. Fuck you, You Angel Bitch. You can't have him!"

"Very well. I was hoping that you would come to your senses, Dean, but I see that you've chosen the wrong side. I will not enjoy killing you...but it is God's Will."

"I doubt that." Sam spits. There's so much venom in his voice. "You don't know what he wants because he's not here and he hasn't been for a long time. If he cared about me, about anything that involves me--my life--then he would've prevented the atrocious acts that fell on me. God's not here, Anna, it's just me now."

It wasn't Sam's intention to get Anna all riled up, but he succeeded in doing so anyway. She flicks her wrist and Azazel's sent flying across the table, knocking everything off of it. When she tries to get to Sam, Dean steps in her way, body stiff and still as a board. He's definitely scared; Sam doesn't need powers to sense that. He's scared too so at least he's not alone. When she raises the blade to him, Dean catches her arm with his hand. They struggle for a while, both vying for control. Azazel comes back up soon, tackling the angel. He pins her down and delivers punch after punch to her face. Apparently, Angels and Demons can bleed too. The more you know. Just as Dean checks in on his brother, Anna pushes Azazel off of her, using her powers to pin him to the wall.

She stands up, blade still in her hand with blood on her face. She's angry. More so than before. Dean tries to prevent her from coming closer by tossing all manner of objects at her. As expected, it doesn't work. Sam cowers on the floor, crying as Anna uses her power to make Dean's body fly to her; her left hand is around his throat. Like last time, he attempts to stop her from stabbing him. However, he soon finds that his grip on her is slipping. Dean manages to turn and locks eyes with Sam just as Anna plunges the blade into his abdomen. The boy screams his name, sobbing louder than ever. Even louder than when John had hurt him. Dean's body drops to the kitchen floor in a sickening, morbid thud. He gasps for air as the blood pours out of his wound and out of his mouth. Soon, the floor around his becomes a small puddle of the red substance.

Dean's dead.

His life...his one true friend.

His one true love.

Murdered by a so called "Angel of The Lord".

Is this what God wants? For him to suffer? Why? What did he ever do to deserve this? If they didn't move here, none of this would have happened. Maybe they would've been working on Dean's car together or playing chess or just watching TV...but not this. It was better not knowing about all of this. About the supernatural. About God. About The Devil. About Angels and Demons. If John had managed to kill him two years ago, then at least he would've spared him a fate worse than death now, in the present day. All of this for what? Nothing. Sam never wanted anything to do with this! So, why him!? Fuck destiny! Fuck prophecies! Fuck God!

If this is how God wants to play, then fine. Sam can play too. If God wants to fuck up his life, then bring it. Sam can fuck up his Creation. If God wants to hurt him, then that's okay. Sam can hurt everything he's ever made.

Anna looks down at Sam, wiping the blood from the blade. "I...regret doing this, Sam. I hope that you understand that as long as you live, death and destruction and chaos will follow. Think of how better Earth will be when you're gone. Would you have wanted Dean to live in a world full of chaos? A world full of death. To have him watch as you killed millions?"

"I suppose it doesn't matter anymore." Sam says distantly. He's staring off into space, eye's hazy with tears running down his face. "He's...he's dead...and I can't stop thinking about..."

"About what?" Anna asks. She's curious.

"About..." Sam sobs as he continues. "About what it'd feel like to break your entire being down...I can't stop thinking about you begging me to let you live as I cut you deeper and deeper. I want you to die, Anna...I want you to die."

"Sam!" Azazel yells from where he's trapped. "Get up! Fight this! Fight her!"

"NO! I'M DONE! NO MORE KILLING! NO MORE HURTING!" Sam shouts. He turns to the angel in front of him, eyes full of rage and sadness. "JUST FINISH IT! Just...just fucking finish it..."

"I'm so sorry, Sam. May you find peace."

The house rumbles then, stopping Anna from proceeding. She's knocked off of her feet and her blade drops to the floor and out of sight. Dishes and glass, as well as other utensils, clatter about as the entire house is rocked. Anna's hold on Azazel breaks and he falls too. Sam, though terrified, glances over at Dean's body, noticing small changes. Well, huge changes. All of the blood that was lost goes back into his mouth and wound. The place where he was stabbed closes and heals itself miraculously. Not long after, Dean blinks, gasping deeply for air a second later. Sam crawls over to him swiftly, hugging him and thanking someone, anyone for bringing him back. The older Winchester comes back to himself soon, returning the hugs with great strength.

Something has changed though. Sam feels Dean, his heart. It's beating...but it's irregular. Like,  _way_ irregular. When he tilts his head up, Sam sees that Dean's eyes keep flickering from black to green in short intervals. It's frightening and it almost has him questioning the reality of the situation. Is this real? It has to be. It feels real. The pain of losing Dean felt extremely real. The stops shaking as the both of them stand; Sam helps his brother to his feet, hugging him briefly again. Anna stays on the ground, clearly outnumbered. She desperately looks for her weapon, but Dean holds it up in his hand, along with another one. It looks...ancient. Not only that, but he has a strange symbol on his forearm. It looks like a scar, a branded scar.

"You're nothing but filth." Anna curses as she tries to back away. Dean only continues to stalk her.

"You killed me, but I came back." He says calmly, eyes pitch black. "You tried to kill my boy. I'm not very happy about that."

"Burn in Hell, Demon."

Dean smirks, but it feels different. "I was already there."

Nothing else is said as he kills Anna with her own weapon, finishing her off with the crude dagger in his other hand. She shrieks in pain for a few seconds before being completely consumed in a bright light. Nothing is left of her save for her clothes. Dean throws the blade at the spot where she was vaporized, sighing heavily. Azazel pops up soon after, checking in on Sam. He nearly dies on the spot as Dean growls his way. What's wrong with him? This isn't his normal way of behaving. What happened to him? Of course, Azazel laughs, having read his mind.

"I've forgotten about that, Dean." He states cheerily. "About what you just dod. About what Lucifer tasked you with."

"What?" Dean snarls.

Azazel checks his watch, rolling his eyes. "Remember what happened with your mother? The fire and everything? Yeah, Lucifer and I saw that. We saw how you carried Sam away to safety by yourself so we thought 'Let's reward him since he loves his brother so much'. And we did. Don't you remember that?"

"I...remember a man...with a hood. He said that I was brave...that I was a great protector. He touched my forehead and then...nothing. He disappeared." Dean explains. "Wait, are you saying that that was... _him_?"

The demon smiles. "That's exactly what I was saying. Dean, the reason why you're here is because of that mark on your arm. The Mark Of Cain. You are a Knight Of Hell, tasked with guiding and protecting The Future Boy King Of Hell, Samuel Winchester."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg! Dean's a what now!? :O
> 
> (Ironic chapter title is ironic. LOL! Stay tuned!)


	14. The Only One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azazel explains to Sam and Dean the details about Lucifer's history and their shared destiny.

_It was a battle that surpassed every single war mentioned in the history books. Your father was beautiful on the battlefield, defeating even the most powerful and sacred of Angels. However, he was bested by his own brother, Michael, and with the help of their heavenly father, he was cast down into the pits of Hell with me and few of his followers. We were damned, cursed and trapped there. Lucifer suffered more so than all of us. God had trapped him in that terrible cage. And for what? Loving him more than Creation itself? Lucifer loved God so much and he was punished for it. The Morningstar vowed that he'd come back one day and lay waste to everything that his father had ever built, but that wasn't enough. He wanted more._

_Using his immense power, he tore open the veil that separated Hell from Earth, allowing some of his minions and influence out. God was either powerless to close the Gates of Hell, or he just couldn't care less about it. Over the years, Lucifer watched silently in the shadows, awaiting for the chance to strike out against the father that betrayed him. He found his opportunity in the form of John Winchester, a man who thought his faith was stronger than steel itself. He was a devout Christian it seemed, even if his wife wasn't so much. Using a large portion of his power, Lucifer managed to crack the cage, slipping right on through. He possessed John one night, using him to impregnate Mary Winchester. When it was all over, he fled into the night, eagerly awaiting the day in which he'd finally see his son._

_When you were born, your mother named you Samuel, which means "Name of God", or "God has heard". Your real father had already chosen your name for you. He thought of compelling your mother to name you Samael, which means "Poison of God", or "Venom of God". He was an Archangel in the highest point of Heaven, swiftly delivering punishment to those he felt deserved it, much like yourself. He can absolve individuals of their sins and had an extremely close relationship with God, though his views on certain things often complicated that relationship. We were both surprised at your Earth name because it sounds so much similar to your actual one. The Archangel was neither good nor evil, yet his allegiance was with God. Samael was regrettably executed by your father because, in the end, he chose to stand against him, not with him. In remembrance, he harvested the Archangel's grace._

_Months after you were born, Lucifer came to me with a gift to give you. It was his own grace, mixed with Samael's. Grace is the life force of any Angel and it holds considerable power. Now, Dean, please sit down for this one because it gets a little...personal. Actually, Sam, could you be a doll and just keep him away from me while I'm saying this? Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks. So, anyway, six months after you were born, I snuck into your room to give you your gifts. You were such a lovely baby; you didn't even cry when you saw my glowing eyes. You only laughed. But back to what I was saying. As I administered the gifts, Mary walked in on me. I've explained this to Sam, but now I will tell you. When I looked into her eyes, I saw Sam's future. Your mother would've killed him had I left right away without doing something about it first. I killed her and unintentionally set the room on fire._

_The second I realized what I did, I tried to get Sam away from his crib. However, John came in so suddenly that, in my haste, I transported myself out. Lucifer, though disappointed with me, watched the flames grows higher as I stood by his side. He had hoped that you would sense the danger at an early age, Sam. Sadly, you only cried and cried. Then, a miracle happened. Dean ran through the house, cradling you in his arms. Lucifer was impressed with your initiative and, as you exited the house, he quickly came up to you, grinning so bright. He gave you a gift. Something that would empower you. Something that would change you. He gifted you with the Mark Of Cain, Dean. His very own creation,  the Mark imbues you with the power of a Knight Of Hell. You also have the overwhelming need to protect Sam from anyone and everyone. You've already had that since he was born, but it's unnaturally doubled. The Mark would only active once you've truly proved yourself worthy. In this case, sacrificing yourself to Anna in order to save Sam. The Mark revived you and gave you the power necessary to keep protecting him._

_Lucifer trusted me enough to watch over you as you grew up from a babbling, baby boy, to a fine, young man. I stayed with you your whole life, making sure you were loved greatly while your real father prepared for the reckoning of a lifetime. However, that damned Anna had caught wind of his plans, and with God being absent for a long time, she began to make assumptions. Such as you being Christ and otherwise. When you were getting attacked by John, I didn't intervene only because I thought that this event would've shocked out your powers. I was so horribly wrong and for that I'm sorry. I didn't stop him personally, but I compelled Dean to return home. Once he did, he came to your aid once again. I thought that his abilities would activate as well, but they didn't. So, I watched and waited patiently until the day you discovered your powers. It seemed that staying with Robert Singer was blocking it somehow._

_Making Dean seem like it was his idea, I influenced his mind once again to take the both of you back here, in hopes that it would awaken your latent abilities. I was disappointed when I saw that neither of you were presenting. Not at the both of you, but at myself. Yet, I had hope. Finally, it happened. Sam, when you killed Matt, I was overjoyed, immediately contacting your father about this. You spoke with him as well, my boy. You and Dean. The night with the Ouija Board? The one with "many names"? It was your father. Dean, I know that it was a shock to you, seeing the planchette move on it's own and ghosts and so on and whatnot. I was there watching right along with Lucifer. He only wanted to speak with his son. He didn't want to talk to him in person or even in a dream for fear that Sam would have another breakdown. He cares so much. He loves his child more than anything...unlike John._

_Now, in case you haven't already figured it out yet, you are basically Samael reincarnated. And yes, Lucifer named you after his fallen brother in Heaven. His grace swirls around you right now, as well as your father's, forcing you to question what's right and what's wrong. I've seen your dilemma. Every decision you've made since your powers have surfaced is because of Samael's grace. You feel the need to punish the wicked and reward the faithful, but you also have your own agenda and you're not above using someone to get what you want, just like your predecessor. These choices you make come naturally, like with Detective Lafitte. You went to him with the intention of redeeming him instead of killing him like the others. You are The Lightbringer, Samuel, and you can make the world a better, more brighter place! With Dean at your very side. His duty is to protect you through anything. His need to do so is so strong now that he'll obliterate anyone who attempts to do your great harm. Despite your hesitation, I know that you'll make a great leader._

_God's been absent for some time, so I doubt that he'll interfere with Lucifer's plans in the near future. It's your destiny to become The Lightbringer, the one to lead us into paradise. As I told you before, don't think of this as a curse or a horrible thing. See this as the gift that it is! Your beloved father's gift! He wants nothing but the best for you. He'll give you the entire world and he'll never put anyone or anything above you...unlike someone we know. Lucifer will be arriving to see the both of you soon. I have no idea when, but you should keep your eyes open. I'll do the same. I have a feeling that he'll make a dramatic appearance. He loves theatrics. He's been to too many Broadway plays and seen way too many movies, but that is unimportant. What is important is that he never forgot about you. When you were younger, have you ever felt sad when Dean was gone, only to perk up through thoughts of him? Lucifer helped you to do that._

_It pains him to see you in pain, yet he still hasn't revealed himself to you. He has plans that even I am unaware of. Whatever they are, I'm sure that they're for you and that you'll have your hands full eventually. Dean, you must take your responsibility seriously, and I know that you already will, because there are more Angels like Anna who will hunt Sam down. They will most likely force him to their side and if he doesn't comply, they'll kill him, but I doubt that you'll let that happen. God's Creation is going tremble to the tremendous force of your might, Samuel. You'll move mountains and spread the word, your word. You'll pass judgement, command armies and untie the world for peace...while Lucifer tries to accomplish what he needs to. Now, I'll answer your questions, if you have any. I'm not here to scare you or shake whatever faith that you still have left, but I'm not going to pretend that you actually have a choice in the matter. This is your ultimate destiny, Sam. You have power beyond comprehension and only I and Dean can help you better your abilities. Okay, are we all set? Any questions?_

* * *

Having been surprised by this sudden information, Sam stares of into space while Dean rubs his back reassuringly. He can only imagine what it is that his little brother is thinking. Shit, he's thinking too much as well. Knight Of Hell? What the fuck!? Lucifer, The King Of Hell, came up to a  _four year old_ and gifted him with an unholy curse that would be used to protect the Antichrist!? Yeah, their lives are so fucked up right about now. Azazel killed their mother, but he claims that she would've killed Sam first. If that's true, then good riddance. He might have loved Mary with everything that he had, but if she had intended to murder her newborn baby, then she deserved what happened to her. Dean knows that it's terrible to think about her like that, but he can't help it. He hates anyone who wants Sam to hurt.

"What if I don't want this?" Sam whispers distantly. "What if I decide to kill myself to stop The Apocalypse from happening?"

Dean growls. "I'm not gonna let that happen."

"Even if you did try to kill yourself," Azazel chimes in. "It wouldn't work. You'll come back. You'll always come back. It's--"

"My father's will? Yeah, well I'm sick of people telling me what to do and what I should do. You want me to be The Lightbringer? Fine, I'll do that, but I'm not doing anything else. If someone needs my help, then I'm gonna help them. I'm not gonna command armies or anything. I'll let Lucifer worry about that. This whole Samael business with me is okay and all, but I really want to focus on fixing things and helping people and..."

Azazel smirks. "And passing judgment. It's natural. It's in your blood. Just look at the bigger picture here. I know that you see corruption and hate in this world and it makes you angry. You can put a stop to this. You can make a difference on Earth. Lead us, Sam. Become the leader that Earth and Hell need."

"This is crazy.. " The teen mumbles. "This isn't what I want...I can't...I can't..."

Dean listens with a grimace. He ungracefully kisses Sam on the mouth, though his kid seems to not want it. What's his deal? He's trying to fucking make him happy! What the fuck!? "I don't care about Heaven or Hell or even the world." His voice is a bit gravelly. "All I care about is you and what you want. If you wanna kill millions, then I'll be there killing with you. If you wanna break open the Gates of Heaven, then I'll help you. But if you want me to watch you die, then forget it. Cause I'm not gonna let you do something so foolish. You're not leaving me alone here. Not you. I'm gonna take care of you and I'll be here till the end of time. Don't be afraid of me, Sammy. Of whatever I'm becoming."

"I'll try not to." Sam mutters softly. "I just want everything to go back to normal...and I'm only scared because...because I  _know_ you meant every word you said. I love you."

"I love you too. So much."

Just as Dean tries to kiss Sam again, Azazel interrupts them. Asshole. "Yeah, as much as I'd love to hear more about how much you love each other--no offence, Your Highness--but someone's approaching the house. I'll take my leave for now."

Before the Winchesters can say a single word or ask a question, the fallen Angel disappears from the house instantly. Sam and Dean look at each other, looks of confusion on their faces. The eldest brother wonders about Azazel's words. Someone's coming? Who? Suddenly, he senses it too. His eye flash black as he stalks off through the living room towards the front door; his original color comes back as he touches the knob with Sam right behind him. Upon opening it, he notices a boy there with brown hair and bright, blue eyes. Immediately, Dean recognizes him as Castiel, Michael's little brother. He talked about him from time to time at the garage. He's the same age as Sam, he thinks. The kid looks nervous, like he's seen a ghost or something extremely similar. Dean raises his eyebrow at Castiel, impatiently waiting from him to say something. When he only fidgets with his sleeve and shifts his footing, the blonde sighs through his nostrils heavily, like a wild bull.

"May I help you?" He huffs.

Castiel opens and closes his mouth, flustered. "I'm he--here to see Sam. To ask him something..."

Having heard his name, Sam gently pushes Dean to see his friend; he smiles and it pissed him off for some reason. "Hey, Cas. It's good to see you. What brings you here?"

"I, uh, I just wanted to see if you'd like to go out with me." Castiel blushes madly at his choice of words and at Dean's furious expression. "N--Not like a date, I swear! I just wanted to see if you'd like to get out of the house for a while. Maybe go to the mall. I know that...we haven't exactly seen each other for a while and I'm sorry. I just thought that you'd like to have your space after what happened. You can say no if you want. I just thought that it'd be nice to have a little fun..."

"Yeah!" Sam says enthusiastically. "Let me just get my hoodie."

He doesn't get far as Dean snags his arm roughly. "I'm coming too."

"No, Dean. It's okay. I'll be back later."

"I said that I'm coming."

Sam frowns, snatching his hand away. "I can take care of myself, you know. I wanna hang out with my friend. If I stay in this house any longer, I'm gonna... _destroy_ something."

"You're not going anywhere without me, dammit!" The man hisses. "I'm here to protect you!"

"The only person I need protecting from right now is you!" Sam counters. "You're out of control. I think you need to lay down or something. Take a load off...please. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you to let me go."

"Need I remind you of the current situation that the both of us are in?" Dean's getting frustrated with this conversation. "I told you that I wasn't leaving you alone." He glances briefly at Castiel, glaring. "And I meant that."

The young man doesn't back down unfortunately. "Right now, I don't care. I'm going out with my friend, who won't do me any harm and won't lead me into any issues or problems. That's the end of it! You'll stay here, Dean. That's a damn order..."

What the hell?

Dean's jaw clenches, Adam's Apple bobbing up and down. He can't help but to do exactly what his boy commands. It doesn't feel mystical or anything...but it also kinda does. The green eyed man/demon/knight/whatever stands down. Who is he to deny the Boy King? His kid? His only family? Taking a deep breath, Dean nods, grabbing the boy for a tight and long embrace. Even knowing that he's changing, he'll continue to have the same attitude towards his lover. He'll never forsake him; he'll be his shadow, his sword and shield. Sam ends the hug a little early, presumably because he doesn't want to give Castiel the wrong impression. Dean doesn't care. If he had his way, he'd tell everyone. He'd let the entire planet know how he feels for his brother.  He could care less about what they think. He only cares about what Sam thinks.

The boy takes his jacket from the coat rack as he says his goodbyes to Dean. He grunts to Castiel when the teen mutters a soft goodbye as well. He's a soft one, unlike his brothers. Michael has a certain air about him that isn't really...well, he can't describe it to be honest. He hasn't met Gabriel, but from what he hears from Sam and Michael, he's a little douchebag. Well, not a douchebag, but close. He's a good friend. Maybe. The boy doesn't talk about him much. Oh well. The less he knows, the better. Dean's not really interested in the Miltons' lives. He is, however, curious as to where their father is. As far as he knows, Mr. Milton is off somewhere making more babies. Absent father. Brings back slight memories. Dean smiles weakly as he sees Sam hop into Castiel's car. He smiles back, eyes promising something sweet for him, and only for him. Soon, he's gone and Dean's left standing on the front porch. He closes the door, clad in only loose sweatpants and a tank top; barefoot. Sitting on the step, he contemplates just sitting here all day until Sam arrives back from his trip.

And so he does...


	15. Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam bonds with Castiel. 
> 
> Dean talks to Azazel about something important.

"I haven't been here before." Sam states, smiling happily. "When did this mall get built?"

"A year ago." Castiel responds. "It's pretty big. I got lost when I first came in here."

They just arrived to the shopping mall downtown. Sam's actually amazed at how huge it is! The decorations and everything is just magnificent. If only Dean was here to see this. Dean. No, he needs to stay home. All of this information that they've just received is getting in his head. He even died, only to come back as a Knight Of Hell, whatever that is. Sam deduces that it must be a title (no shit) of the highest possible order, probably even surpassing Azazel's. When Dean died, Sam thought it was all over. He wanted Anna to kill him right then and there. He can't live without his brother. It's sad actually. To be so devoted and to be so dependant on each other.. it's just so...toxic? Well, no. It doesn't feel that way, but then again, he wouldn't know. That's quite alright. Dean's alive and well...sort of.

If anything, he's acting like a feral animal who won't let his mate go. He is taking this new job way too seriously for Sam's liking. While it's great to have a follower/protector, he still can't accept the fact that he's the son of Satan and that Hell is a place that he'll soon inherit, along with the Earth. Supposedly. It's not like Lucifer is standing right in front of him telling him that everything he heard is true. But Azazel doesn't really have any reason to lie. Sam knows--yet he doesn't know  _how_ he knows--Azazel was telling the truth about every single detail. Great. Being the reincarnated Angel of Judgement (it's a working title) isn't gonna be all peaches and gravy. It seems like hard work, but he'll use his powers for good, never evil, despite what his father--and possibly, what God--wants. He'll never give in to the tempting and dark power that encircles his soul again. If he does, he'll reason with himself that it was only out of self defense or because there was no other way.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around here before." Sam mumbles with his head down. "Did you always live here? In Lawrence or somewhere else in Kansas?"

Cas chuckles. "My dad decided to move us here a year ago, right when the mall was built. He said that we needed a change in scenery. We lived all over."

"I've never, um, seen your dad." The brunette mutters. "Well, I don't really get out much anymore, but when I did, I didn't see a Mr. Milton or anything. Is he busy or something?"

"Or something." The shorter teen confirms. "Yeah, he's pretty busy. A lot of people depend on him, Sam. My brothers and I...we tell him that there isn't much that he or anyone can do for some of these people, but he breaks his back for them. I admire him for that. My dad is my idol." As they walk, Castiel notices the glazed over look in Sam's eyes; the terror. "I'm sorry. All this talk about fathers. I didn't mean to upset you..."

Sam pushes away the horrible thoughts of what John did to him. "Huh? No--No. I'm okay...really. I'm fine, Cas. It's okay. I keep forgetting that some people actually...some people actually still love their fathers. Admire them."

"Do you not love your father? Even after what he did to you?"

"My father...He...I can't say. If I ever saw him again, I'd--I don't know. I don't know what I would do, to be honest. I've spent two long years hating and fearing him. Sometimes, the two would become mixed together. Sometimes, I'd dream if him before the incident, only for the dream to become warped and messed up. John hurt me, that much is absolutely certain, but I cannot say if I still love him or not...I can't say..."

Cas stops and puts a hand on the brunette's shoulder. "I'm positive that if he had the chance, he'd apologize to you. I wasn't there, but I know that some part of him is devastated that he hurt you."

"Cas, I--"

"If I'm being too personal, please forgive me. I only..."

Suddenly, Castiel stops and looks around, worried. Sam does too. "Hey, what's wrong?"

The other boy frowns. "I thought I felt...never mind. Come on. Let's go. I wanna show you this book store here that's pretty cool."

* * *

It's been an hour already and that's fine. If it comes down to it, Dean will wait all day and night for Sammy's return. Hopefully, it won't come down to the latter. He'd rather much have his boy back before sundown. That fucking Castiel kid better bring him back. Something about him rubs Dean the wrong way. He can't read him in any way, shape or form and that's very troubling. That little shit could be trying to kill Sam right now and he wouldn't even know about it. That's actually untrue. He'd know if Sam's dead, but he doesn't know what's happening in Cas' shifty, little head. This thing--this  _mark_ \--is tied to the Future King of Hell in a big way. It's strange because he can feel Sam's stress levels and heartbeat with each passing second. He doesn't sense his thoughts, but that seems to be the only drawback.

Dean has immense knowledge and power now and he honestly has no idea what to do with it. Secrets of things that have been buried deep in history for thousands of years. For instance, he knows about Hitler and the Third Reich and about the Thule Society. How the dictator almost conquered the world with his own knowledge of the occult and religious artifacts and paraphernalia. That's not even the worst of it. All throughout history, various men and women have discovered that the supernatural exists, and have tried to use it to their advantage, for good and for evil. Mostly evil. When presented with power, humans will do the most shitty, most rediculous, most stupidest things imaginable. Dean just wishes that humanity is worth it. He's not looking to destroy it or subjugate it. All he ever wants to is serve Sam, to make sure he's incredibly happy. This Mark Of Cain is truly something. In the best and worst way. Ever.

After hearing a sudden  _whoosh_ , Dean smirks. "How long have you been watching me sit here like an idiot?"

"Not long actually." Azazel sighs, sitting next to him. "I was tailing your brother for a while. He's with Novak. That boy is strange. Always being happy. There's definitely something off about him and his brothers. Also, the fact that I never see their father is a major problem."

Alarms go off in Dean's head. "You think that they might be out to get Sam?"

"Not sure. I can't read them. But there's something...something special or just off about the youngest one."

"He has power?"

"No, it's more than that. I don't know if  _he knows_ it or not, but I'm getting intense vibes from him. He's not an angel, that's for sure. Something different. Ancient. I've never felt anything like that before..."

"If he wants to hurt Sammy," Dean snarls. "Then you need to go after him! What the fuck are you doing here talking to me for when--!?"

"I'm gonna have to stop you right there!" Azazel yells, putting up his hand. "Castiel Novak is unimportant right now. There's no malevolence coming from him. Just from viewing him, I can see that his intentions towards The Boy King of Hell are entirely innocent. I'd still be suspicious if I were you. We have no idea about what we're dealing with."

"If he's unreadable, good, and possibly too powerful to be an Angel, what in God's name could he be?" The Knight asks.

"I don't know...but he's still a threat to me, no matter their friendship. He's...there's something you need to know about him."

* * *

Being able to spend time with a friend--a real,  _true_ friend--feels amazing. Almost unreal! Sam's never had this before. He's only ever had this much fun with Dean. Gosh, this is so awesome. No. Castiel's awesome. This mall is awesome. This book store is awesome. Everything is awesome! Yeah, no. Sam doesn't want that song stuck in his head again, but yeah. Cas is a very good friend, going out of his way to make someone have a great time. This Samael Antichrist bullshit is splitting him apart at the seams. He's actually debating with himself on telling Cas about everything he knows. It's not a good idea. He'll think that he's insane and that he belongs in the same looney bin as his father. His "Earth Father" that is. Yeah, it's best that no one knows about this.

The book store isn't exactly full, but it's not empty either. It's pretty spacious. There's bookshelves everywhere with the genres listed on the top. Sam immediately goes for folklore; even before he learned of his true heritage, he always loved reading it. He picks up a red book about Reynard The Fox, an anthropomorphic character that causes hardships for others wherever he goes, with his main enemy being his uncle who is a wolf. Strange. He's sort of like Loki, The God Of Mischief in Norse Mythology. While certain stories paint him as a Robin Hood-esque character and a villain, Sam doesn't see him as either. He's a sly, cunning individual who delights himself in causing slight chaos. If anything, he's an antihero, in it for himself and others if he so wishes. But he is a true hero in some respects. He loves his children and wife, doing terrible acts to provide for them. In the end of his tale, he fakes his death after a duel with his uncle, going to live his life in a castle with his family. It's an interesting read.

"Reynard is a favorite of mine." Castiel smiles. "My dad's too. He likes characters and people like that. The ones who don't conform to the status quo. They're such beautiful creatures..."

"Tell me more about Mr. Milton." Sam says as he looks at other books. "Or Mr. Novak. I don't really know what he goes by."

"Sure, but if you ever meet him, he'd want to be called Chuck. So, he's a great man in my opinion. Very loving. He lives all of us, his children, deeply and equally." Cas chuckles, picking up a random book of his own. "But if I'm being one hundred percent honest, I'd say that I'm the favorite son. There's three of us. Me, Gabriel and Michael. There used to be more of us..."

"I'm sorry for your..." Soon, Sam knits his brows together. "Wait...that's not right...is it?"

"Pardon?"

"You said  _three_ of you." The teen tries to make sense of this. "But that's not true. There should be  _four_ if you include Nick, your other brother."

This seems to make Castiel grimace, but he quickly switches back to his smiling face. "Of course, of course! Yes, he's been away for so long, I guess I forgot about him. Silly me."

Something isn't right. Using his powers, Sam finds that he can't read or sense whatever it is that Cas is thinking. What the hell? And it's not only that either. There's something else too. Cas isn't human. How could he have missed this before!? While he may not be human, everything about him screams that yes, he is in fact  _human_. But that can't be right! Not with him giving off huge waves of power. Does he even know about it or is he just clueless? Strangely, there's something familiar about him as well. This power recognizes him, but from where? Before he can question it further, Sam pushes it all down, determined to figure it out later. When he goes to pay for the book, Castiel stops him, paying for it instead as a friendly gesture. That's good and all, but there's a lot that doesn't seem to make sense right now. The way he reacted when he heard Nick's name...something's off about this, though for now, he's ready to go home.

* * *

"I'm sure that whatever Castiel is, it's definitely a game changer." Azazel states.

Dean rolls his eyes. "The suspense is killing me. Cryptic as usual."

"Castiel's power is as strong as Sam's."

This catches the blonde's attention quickly. "What...?"

"I'm saying that Castiel has supernatural abilities that are on par with your brother's. I sensed the power within him and it was overwhelming, just as Sam. In all respects, he is his equal. If he has appeared this early, then--"

"If who has appeared!?" Dean bellows.

"Who do you think?" Azazel starts. "The Bible states that the Second Coming of Christ will include him taking battle with The Beast. Two people with equal power, Dean, fighting against each other. Think about it. The Final Battle between, essentially, Demigods. The Son of God versus The Son of Satan."

"You're saying that...?"

"It's currently speculation, but it's the only thing that's the most logical." The Demon checks his watch. "Well, I have things to do, souls to collect, deals to make. I'll be watching, Dean Winchester, and giving you both updates on 'The Lucifer Status'. Goodbye for now."

In a flash, he's gone, leaving Dean sitting on the front steps alone once again. Well then...this certainly changes everything that he knows. Within ten seconds time, the white sedan that Castiel was driving earlier pulls up, with Sam in the passenger side. He looks happy. Happier than he has been in a while. Dean feels bad, yet he doesn't exactly know or understand why. They seem to talk for a brief moment before Sam leans over to hug his friend. It's like a stab in the gut. It's not like his boy is fucking him or anything, so why is he getting this way? It's the fucking Mark Of Cain, that's what! It's heightening his emotions, mainly the negative ones for an unknown reason. Shit. This isn't good. At this rate, he's gonna rip someone's goddamn throat out. When Castiel looks over Sam's shoulder at Dean, the man flinches. His eyes are piercing his insides like a hot blade. The boy stares at him, his gaze being almost sympathetic in nature. Now he knows exactly what Azazel was talking about. The power. How'd he not feel it before?

Eventually, Sam hops out of the car, waving away at his friend. Cas honks the horn in response, driving away shortly after. Dean stands, hands behind his back. It feels all too regal and formal for him, but it also just came naturally despite his current attire. Feeling impulsive, he snaps his fingers, changing his clothes. He's got on an all black outfit, business up top, casual down below the belt. Not that it really matters, but Dean just wants to impress his King now. His hair is a bit smoothed back as well as being styled. He finds his plan rediculous as he fiddles with his charcoal colored necktie. Sam, however, grins, only to have it intensify once he steps in front of the man man who has sworn his life to him. The boy has a few bags in his hand; of course, there's a book in one of them. Castiel's doing, no doubt. Without saying a word, and within full view of everyone who might be looking, Sam places an open mouthed kiss on the only person who truly loves him. Dean revels in the embrace, even going so far as to grope the boy's ass. That has a somewhat negative effect.

"Seriously?" Sam questions, lifting an eyebrow. "You couldn't wait until I got in this house? And what's with the get up? Going to a funeral?'

Dean looks away, embarrassed. Weird. "You hate it, don't you."

"No--no!" He laughs. "I love it...I really do. What's, uh, what's the occasion?"

"Honestly? There isn't one. I just wanna look good...for you. Good for you. Uh huh."

Sam chuckles as he leads them into the house. "You know I hate that song. Hey, remember that fox I used to talk about?"

"Ryan Reynolds?"

"No, Dean. Reynard. The one whose story constantly changes. The character that doesn't have a specific author. You see, his story is a bit complex. It's simple, if you think about it. I'll tell you...well, right after I get on you about sitting outside for hours without anything on. So, anyways..."

Dean lets Sam drone on and on about that strange fox tale. Hey, as long as he's happy, Dean's happy. They need a long bath together after dinner, maybe a little something afterwards. That's only if he wants to. Parts of him just wanna take him by force, yet the other part knows that it's wrong to think such a thing. It's okay. He'll be better. They'll be okay. He'll push these thoughts deep down in a vault of self loathing, never to emerge again. And with this new news of the Second Coming of Christ, he only hopes that Sam will understand; Dean won't tell him. Won't tell him that his best friend is possibly Jesus. That's something that Sam doesn't need to know. They swore...not too long ago, to  _not_ keep anymore secrets between each other, but this needs to be kept under wraps for a little while. Just until he and Azazel are certain that it's true. It's only for a little bit. That's all. That's all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are Castiel's intentions...? O.O Stay tuned.


	16. Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a sudden turn in the Winchester house while Sam comes face to face with a familiar person from his dark past. 
> 
> Everything starts going to Hell. 
> 
> Literally.

It's one thing to make pancakes, but it's another thing to make them in the shape of little Angels. This is exactly what Dean has just done and it makes Sam a little...uneasy. He supposes that he should feel elated or spirituality enlightened, but he feels nothing but estrangement. Perhaps towards the Angels during their rebellion. Those idiots. All of them. Killing each other with no problems whatsoever. They were all family. Shit. That must be Samael's grace talking though. Ever since learning of his parentage and heavenly heritage, Sam's been having some issues with dealing with it. He finds it funny that he once thought of world domination even before learning of him being the Antichrist. God, that's such a terrible name. It literally means "The Opposite Of Christ" and the young man really doesn't want to paint this picture of himself based on a name that's so goddamned old. This is all starting to annoy him.

Everything's becoming blurred together. Truths, lies and everything in between. The life he once lived and the life he has now. Sam finds solace in knowing that the bright side of having Samael's grace/consciousness is that there's tons of hidden knowledge inside of his brain. He figures that Dean's been through the same thing. Not exactly the same, but something definitely similar. Sam feels The Mark Of Cain calling to him, wanting to connect, to protect. It's so weird. It pulses when Dean reaches certain moods, like when he stubbed his toe on the coffee table last night. It's sad because they don't have a damn coffee table anymore. Nope. Dean broke it in a fit of rage, eyes completely black and wild. He even roared at one point. Sam was a little scared, but when the blonde kissed him, everything was okay again. This "New Dean" is a little frightening and he's dangerous. Not towards The Boy King of Hell, of course, but towards others who might only accidentally be glancing his way. Just imagine if the mailman came by with a package for Sam. That guy wouldn't leave their house alive and that's a scary thought.

However, the scariest thing right now is Castiel. The only other person that he can call a good friend is not as he seems. He's not a human, but he's not an Angel, nor is he a Demon. He is so much more, yet Sam can't figure out what. There's simply one way to know: Ask. Though he doesn't want to come off as crazy to a boy who might be becoming his best friend. They've been hanging out more frequently, sometimes with Dean in attendance, sometimes without with him silently staying close by just in case. Sam sees the way that his brother looks at Cas, like he doesn't trust him. It's also the same look he used to use on females to get their attention. Hopefully, it's just hate and nothing more towards Cas; the boy can sense the jealousy all around on Dean through The Mark. While that happens, Sam feels extremely powerful now. Probably more so than a few days ago. He's been practicing his abilities, going so far as to redecorate their bedroom with his Telekinetic powers. Yet that's only the tip of the highest, most dangerous iceberg.

He's been having visions lately, awake and while sleeping. In those visions, he sees a man's outline, holding out his hand and calling his name. He doesn't actually  _hear_ the man calling him specifically though. It sounds like a high pitched ringing, but Sam knows that this mystery man was saying his name. Not only that, but his own aggressiveness has almost dissipated completely. No more furious outbursts or deadly threats. He sees how terrible his acts were, but he's not apologizing for them. Just like Samael. The Archangel wasn't inherently evil, but sometimes compelled Man to commit evil acts on each other to test their hearts. Yet the craziest thing he discovered about his predecessor came from visions in his dreams, flashbacks. Samael commanded certain armies in Heaven, was a Chief Officer in the Fifth Heaven and was...The Archangel Of Death. Sorta like the Grim Reaper. That's actually pretty surprising. Understanding, but surprising nonetheless. Soon, Dean sets Sam's plate in front of him, smiling happily as he sits down and grabs his own to dig into.

"Eat up," He says with his mouth full of pancakes. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I don't wanna see you sluggish and slow today."

Sam grins. He pours syrup on his food and cuts it. "You're getting better at this, ya know. Cooking. It's becoming more of a meal and less of a deathtrap. Amazing."

"Well, I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

"You should. You've come a long way."

Dean smirks over his food. "I aim to please my King."

That's sets Sam's nerves on fire. After a few minutes of silence, he speaks. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"These...uh, these things that you do for me now, is it because you love me, or is it because of The Mark?"

Dean's fork drops to his plate and he grimaces. "What did you say?"

"I--I..." He stutters. "I'm just curious--"

"You think I don't love you?"

"No--I just--!"

"You just what? You think I'm doing all of this shit because I feel indebted to you or something!?" The Knight's voice raises with each word. "I made you fucking pancakes! You really think I don't love you!?"

This is getting out if hand very fast. "Dean, I didn't say that. Please, just listen--"

But he doesn't listen as he slams his hands on the table; they both stand. What's happening? "Then what are you saying, Sammy!? Help me understand!"

"IF YOU LET ME FINISH,"  _(Stop it. Stop it.)_ "THEN MAYBE I CAN,"  _(No, please! I don't wanna do this...not to him.)_ "FUCKING TELL YOU WHAT YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND!"

At that moment, when Sam screamed, the house rattled and a large kitchen knife stabbed itself into the table, right next to Dean's hand. He recoils, obviously not used to the destructive and volatile nature of Sam's powers. The boy is left huffing and puffing, sneering at the only one he loves more than anything. He's pissed off and he's gonna give him a piece of his mind. Wind blows through his hair as he pants, fists clenched at his sides. Fighting isn't going to help anyone, but if this is how Dean wants to play it, then bring it on. Out of the two of them, only one is strong enough to bring about the complete obliteration of the world. Dean wouldn't dare try to contest against him, yet here he is, screaming like a man possessed. That comparison isn't a good one, though it's the only one he has. And it's technically true, yet false at the very same time. During the staredown, the Knight tries to placate the boy, but that only seems to infuriate him more. He causes the knife to dislodge itself from the table, pointing it in Dean's face.

"Sammy..." He says carefully. "Just...just put the knife down, Baby Boy--"

"Don't 'Baby Boy' me." Sam hisses. He sighs, keeping the knife afloat. He only drops it when he realizes that he's got a knife on his brother. "What's your problem, Dean? Why are you acting like this? It's The Mark, isn't it? It's changing you..."

Dean puts his head down and responds. "Yeah. I know it is. I feel...different, ya know? I can't...I'm trying with everything that I have to remember who I was a few days ago, before I died. Do you have any idea what it's like to feel this way? To feel torn apart only to find yourself covered in darkness?"

"Yes," The Son of Satan whispers solemnly. "I have."

_(We're the same, you and I. Trapped in an endless spiral of personal self-loathing. We've suffered a great deal from the hands of our father...I've suffered. You've suffered when you took on the role of father, mother and brother. You've always had this drive in you, this superpower that makes you irrationally protective of me. Why am I so special to you? What could you possibly see in me? I'm damned and broken. I'm the son of a powerful deity, grandson of the most powerful God in all existence. How do you not see me as darkness incarnate? I'm not perfect, neither are you, but I won't stand by and watch as your personality slips away, day by day. I'll fix you, Dean, even if it kills me. If I die saving you from yourself, then so be it. At least I'll die knowing that you're alive and safe. You don't need this tainted mark to protect me. I love you, De. Now...and forever.)_

His speech isn't said aloud, but Dean has heard every word. Suddenly, his arm shoots up into the air against his will. There's a sizzling sound and the man cries out, clearly in pain. Sam stands there, panting and concentrating. Even if it kills him, he's gonna save Dean from himself. He feels the pain that his brother is experiencing, though it's dull. He's using powers that he doesn't understand to remove The Mark Of Cain from his lover. It's too ancient and too complicated to understand, making his eyesight blurry. Sam's brain feels like it's on fire and not the good kind. Like it's squeezing itself to death, if this makes any sense at all. But he has to push through. Dean's screams are starting to become less audible the more the boy forces his powers to cause The Mark to break apart. He knows not of the consequences of this, yet he doesn't care. Not if Dean's wonderful personality is on the line. Sam twitches his neck to the left once, eyes becoming hot behind the sockets.

"S--Sammy..." Dean grunts horrendously. The Mark on his arm is glowing red, but disappearing. "Don't...please! You...don't know what...you're doing! You'll die!"

"I don't care." Sam sobs. He didn't even notice that he was crying. Everything is numb. "If you're okay, that's all that I care about. I only care about you, Dean. I love you."

The blonde manages to squeeze out tears; he doesn't want to say goodbye. "I love you too, but don't--AHH! DON'T, SAMMY!"

But it's too late to stop. Sam feels it. As the pair scream into the air, a light shines from Dean's arm and an invisible shockwave pushes them down and apart. This is it. The end. No more coming back. Azazel was wrong. He's not reviving or anything this time. He knows because he feels the power of The Mark corrupting and spreading like a viral disease in his bloodstream. The boy tries to gasp, but he finds that he can't do such a thing. When he attempts to breathe, he discovers that his air supply is cut. All he can do is turn his head to see Dean on the floor, unconscious, but without that terrible Mark on his forearm. Sam smiles weakly as tears continue to stream down his face. He's happy that he managed to pull it off and that his brother is free from corruption. He may not be a Knight anymore, but he's still a powerful man if he survives this, and Sam knows that he will. Dean was always the strong one. Closing his eyes, he sees a figure--two actually. They're more like silhouettes, one shorter than the other. Familiar.

* * *

He feels awful. Like a truck ran over his brain and the driver put it back into his head. Crap. The upside of this is that he doesn't want to immediately attack a piece of furniture. Dean groans as he sits up, eyes still closed. Everything is drained; power, strength, all of it, yet his knowledge and unreasonably high need to stay by Sam's side still remains. Oh, no! Sam! Dean immediately opens his eyes, searching for his brother. When he sees him lain on the floor, unmoving, his heart instantly snaps in two. He hurriedly crawls his way over to the boy with tears threatening to eject themselves from his crystal green orbs. He shakes his boy gently on the shoulder, finding no response. To distract himself from the horribleterriblefuckingshit grief, he laughs it off as a little joke, pretending that Sam's doing that play dead game they used to do as kids. Yeah, that's it. That's all.

"Nice try, Sam." He laughs, but it's only a sob. "You...you really had me going for a minute."

The boy stays silent and still, face drained of all color and body cold. He looks so small.

"Come on, Sammy...please just...just stop playing around and open your eyes. We didn't--we never finished breakfast. Can you wake up? Please?" Dean pleads.

Once again, there's no response coming from the corpse in front of him.

"Sammy!" He finally cracks. "Sammy, don't you do this to me! Not to me, you hear!?" He looks up when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. It's Azazel, looking mortified. "Help me! Help me, please! Bring him back. You gotta bring him back!!"

The Demon sinks to his knees near Dean, eyes wide and focused on Sam. "What have you done, Boy?" He whispers. "What--How...? How could he be so careless!?"

"You said he'd come back! Why isn't he coming back!? You lied! You said he would only come back if he...if he...if..."

"This...he removed The Mark Of Cain." Azazel explains quietly. "That required a tremendous amount of power to make and...and he just destroyed it. He destroyed his father's creation. Lucifer almost died making that thing, so imagine what would happen if one were to completely erase it. Someone as powerful as Sam."

So, that's it then? That's how this stupid story ends? The Antichrist slain by his own hand to save a mortal from a curse. Oh, if only the Christians were here to see this. They'd shit their pants knowing that everything they thought they knew about the supposed Beast was a joke, a lie. Sam still doesn't move as Dean hugs his body close to his. Azazel feels something probably close to sympathy. Forget it. He doesn't want or need it. He only wants his brother back. No, he  _needs_ his brother back. If he's Lucifer's son, then where the hell is he? Off jerking around looking for new ways to fuck with God's plans!? He needs to get his ass down here and bring him back! If he wants his soul, fine, let him take it, he just needs to bring. Him. Back. Just then, Dean takes a deep breath. He hasn't done this at all lately, not since he was four and his mother was still alive.

"Uh..." Dean cries softly, eyes looking to the ceiling. "I...I'm not perfect. I've done some things that I'm not proud of, like...well, you already know, but Sam, he never asked to be born like this. He wanted to be a fucking lawyer! He wanted to be normal. For a long time, I didn't believe in you, especially after the shit with John. I thought 'What kind of God would allow that to happen to him? To my baby brother?' I never got my answer. You created all things, even him, so I know you can bring him back. I want my Sammy. God, please...just give me my other half back. Take me instead...please."

He didn't expect for anything to happen. Not by a long shot. Dean glances at Azazel again who only looks away in anguish. Is this what Sam felt before when he died? This heartbroken feeling? It's worse than that. Like his soul's been ripped apart and fried into nothingness. There's a hole forming where his heart should be. Just as he starts to hate everything and everyone, a bright light--brighter than the sun outside--shines through the ceiling. Both Azazel and Dean look up, startled at the scene above them. He doesn't dare shield his eyes, but the Demon scurries away from the light, vanishing. What happens next scares the living shit out of the former Knight. The blinding light shines solely upon Sam's form, warmth touching his features. His body moves, but not by his own doing. It floats seamlessly in the air, arms and legs hanging limp. Dean knows better than to interfere with what is happening, so he watches wide eyed, yet frightened.

* * *

_**Hello, Samuel.** _

_Hello, Samuel._

"Who are you two? Where...what's happening to me?"

_**I am the heat of the flame.** _

_I am the one who ignites the fire._

**_You're very brave, Sam._ **

_So brave._

**_I want to give you the gift of life once more for your sacrifice._ **

_Your great sacrifice. You went saved his life at the cost of your own._

"Why are you helping me...? I'm destined to become...to become The Beast."

_**Because there is hope for you yet.** _

_Because it isn't how you will die. There's still time to get this right._

**_There's still time for you to make a difference._ **

_To do the right thing._

**_Now, wake up Sam. Embrace your brother and live._ **

_Wake up, Sam. I'll be watching over you...we're friends after all..._

* * *

Gasping, Sam's eyes shoot open. The first thing he sees is Dean's bewildered face, followed by him being nearly squeezed to death by his huge arms. Did he just...die? Yes, his brain speaks for him, he did. What kind of weird divine intervention was that? Who did he talk to and why did the one seem so--Sam knew him...kinda. What was that thing he said at the end? "We're friends after all"? What's that supposed to mean? He doesn't have many...friends...wait a minute. Could it be? Could it really be...Castiel? Was this his doing? It didn't look like him, but then again, Sam couldn't see much of them. So many questions are flitting about in the teen's head and he can't do a damn thing except cling to his lifeline with all the strength he can muster. Dean cries, incoherently babbling to Sam about what he saw and how scared he was of losing him. Now he knows how he felt not too long ago. They kiss, though it's brief as the elder Winchester goes back to squeezing him tight. He's back to his old self, he can sense it, though he still can't read his mind. It's like some sort of strange activity is going on in his head that prevents the kid from peeking inside. He's not too focused on that now.

"I thought I fucking lost you." Dean weeps into Sam's shoulder. They're both still on the floor. "I thought I fucking lost my only reason for living. You can't leave me alone here, Sammy. Promise me that--that you won't do something reckless like that again."

These raw nerves are almost too much for Sam to handel. Especially since he just resurrected. "I promise. I'm sorry.. " He mutters, gripping Dean's shirt. "Don't cry...I'm right here. I'm okay. Don't cry...don't cry...don't cry..."

Words that Dean used to say to him all the time as kids and two years ago. He is right here, they both are, and they aren't going anywhere. Not for a very long time. They've managed to cheat death once, but here's hoping that the Reaper doesn't come knocking again any time soon. Sam feels like the older brother right now, stroking Dean's hairs and drying his tears. The man just continues to bawl his eyes out, whispering to himself saying "Thank You, God. Thank You". There's something that he's not saying, but in a way, he's saying it all without openly admitting it. Dean knows something about his resurgence; he's calling out to God. It's not uncomfortable as much as it is unsettling. Foreign. Looking over his brother's head, Sam notices Azazel watching from the archway. He's smiling weakly at them, though just from looking at him, the Boy King can sense that he's very afraid. That's perfectly fine.

So is he.

* * *

It's just great having Dean back to normal. He called into work today saying that he wants to come back; Michael happily accepted him back in. No more vicious outbursts. He's completely cleansed. He's healthy physically, but he probably harbors mental scars from his time with The Mark. There's no telling what he witnessed with that damned curse attached to him, what horrors he discovered. Sam's not gonna pry though. He's just ecstatic that Dean's eyes don't flicker black anymore. Azazel told him about everything during the period of his death. A bright light? From above? It can't be none other than the great old man in the sky, but why? Something's off about this. It doesn't make sense! Why would God bring him back if he's supposed to be his worst enemy? Even though Lucifer is his father and claims that he loves him, Sam can't help but to feel...well,  _not_ loved by him.

He hasn't exactly put in the effort to visit. What, does he need to set an appointment or something? That's kinda messed up, yet Sam brushes it off. He'd rather sit here watching something about ghosts than wonder about the father that abandoned him. He thinks idly about the one who desperately wants to rule over God's Creation. Are his plans near completion? If so then...he doesn't want to be a part of them. This is the decision he made two days ago when he was brought back to life; he won't help Lucifer do  _anything_. The short figure told him that there was still time to get this right, still time to do the right thing. So that's what he's gonna do. He'll use the powers that Samael had to make Earth better and he'll save them all by peace instead of brute force like he had originally imagined. He knows what Bobby saw now, before he killed him. A dark, desolate future full of suffering. He feels regret when thinking of the old man and sadness when imagining himself as a tyrant, a totalitarian leader. That's not good and it's not gonna happen.

That's when shit decides to hit the fan. As Sam gets up to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, the house shakes, not unlike the time that Dean was brought back by The Mark. He's thrown back onto the couch then the floor by the severity of the quake. How does no one else--neighbors--feel this? Why is it always this damn house that attracts the supernatural. That's honestly the dumbest question that he's ever thought of. The rattling resumes as a blue light starts to form in the middle of the room. Sam's definitely scared. Every nerve in his system is screaming for him to get out of the house, but he doesn't. He can't. It's almost as if he's paralyzed. Paralyzed with fear. The shaking comes to a halt when a person in all white dress clothing appears. His back is towards Sam, but the boy knows that stance. He knows that hair. That smell. Oh, God...no. Turning around, the person is revealed to be none other than John Winchester, face bright and smiling, clean shaven. His shoes thump on the wood of the floor as he slowly makes his way to Sam.

"Hello, Samuel." The man who caused him so much grief says so casually. "It's...been a very long ti--"

"NO!" Sam shouts, backing away against the wall like a scared animal. "No! St--Stay back! Leave me alone! How'd you get here!? Why are you here!?"

John chuckles, still advancing on him. He touches the boy's cheek with the back of his hand. "Wonderful. You've grown up better than I had imagined. Don't be afraid of me, Sam. I'm your father, don't you know that? We've never spoken before..."

What!? That's a lie! How can John just stand there and lie like--

Oh.

Of course.

How could he have not seen it?

He's right. They haven't spoken before because the person in front of him is--

"Lucifer..." Sam whispers distantly.

"Yes, My Son. It's me...and I've finally come to see you and talk to you about a few things. Shall we begin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuuuuuuck!? Stay tuned! :O


	17. End Of An Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam speaks with Lucifer for the first time. 
> 
> Dean discovers something extraordinary about Michael and his family. 
> 
> It's a sinfully/heavenly reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well...we meet again.

There's this horrible, strange, dark, abnormal feeling inside of Sam that wants nothing more than to lash out at the glowing man in front of him. The man that created him two times over. It's odd now that he's thinking about it. Lucifer possessed John and it can be said that he has two fathers. An Earth Father and a...not-Earth Father. He refuses to call him Heavenly or holy. That right is only reserved for the bearded man in the clouds. It's weird because, of what little Sam can decipher about God from Samael's memories, God has a plethora of faces at his disposal, yet none of them being an elderly man with a grey beard. It's an odd representation of him. One that doesn't do him justice. There's also something somewhere in his memory banks about Lucifer. He just can't recall the face. Angel's faces aren't exactly faces to humans. They're hard to gaze upon normally, so they take vessels. But why Lucifer decided to use a sick man like John as a vessel is beyond Sam's thinking.

His father must be in there somewhere screaming. He hasn't referred to John as his father in a long time. The man's probably freaking out, afraid...unless Lucifer put him in a dreamlike state or whatever. If that's the case, then The Devil may have done the same thing on the night Sam was conceived. Lucifer smiles, showing off John's bright teeth. It's too early for this and honestly, he'd rather have a cup of coffee spiked with whiskey to be able to deal with this shit. However, he doesn't get to have his coffee, not with his father basically pushing him against the wall. It seems way too intimate for this to be a father and son talk. He's still caressing Sam's cheek gingerly. The reincarnated Archangel shudders internally as well as externally. This is too much for his already fractured psyche. Seeing his rapist up so close as well as the King of Hell is overwhelming.

"You're so beautiful, Sammy." Lucifer whispers. The nickname causes the boy to whimper and scuttle away to the couch. "Is something the matter, my son?"

"Stay away..." Sam cries. "Leave me alone. Please. I...I don't want you here and...don't call me that. Only Dean...just Dean."

The Archangel hums. There's no malice in his voice as he vanishes and reappears to sit next to his son. "I understand. I had hoped that this appearance wouldn't be unsettling to you, that you had gotten over your fear of him. I'm sorry for upsetting you. If it makes you feel any better, he's currently trapped in his own mind, begging to be released, tortured. He's watching as we speak now. He has some rediculous notion that I'm here to hurt you so he's trying to escape and regain control over his thoughts. He, protect you? That in itself is laughable. But I'd never hurt you, Samael. He, however, is another story. I would've thrown him into the pits of Hell to endure lifetimes of suffering had you wished it. I care so much for you."

"You barely know me. And if you really cared, then why have you been absent this whole time? If you really cared, why didn't you save me? If you really cared why...just why?"

"I'm sorry." That's all that God's once delightful Angel says, placing his hand on his son's. "I'm so sorry."

Sam stands, angry. "Sorry!? You're  _sorry_? You watch me grow up only to see me raped by a man who I've only know as my father and all you've got to say is sorry? You're gonna have to do better than that. I was...I suffered! Dean suffered! He's more of a father than you are. He took care of me while you had some Demon watch over us. Where were you? WHERE WERE YOU!?"

"I had very important things to accomplish before reuniting with you!" Lucifer shouts back. He's standing too and there's massive energy coming from him. "Everything I've done and everything I  _am_ doing is all for you. It's all for you, Samael."

"I'm...I'm not Samael. I'm just Sam."

"No." God's former son smiles as he touches Sam's cheeks again. His hands are cold. Why's that...familiar? Cold hands? "You are more than 'Just Sam' as you well know. You're my son, The Lightbringer. Together, we'll do incredible things to this...pitiful planet. But first, I'd like to have a talk with you about something important."

"Important? Like what?"

He knows what this so called talk is about when John's face lights up, grin in place. "I want to talk about The Mark Of Cain, Sam. What happened to it?"

* * *

He welcomes the change of pace all over again. Dean's absolutely delighted to be back at the garage with Michael. He missed him, though they had contact with each other in his absence. He still jokes about Sam working for him, just fetching tools and entertaining the customers. Being eye candy. It causes Dean to roll his eyes. He's aware that these are all jokes, yet he can't help but to feel like Michael might actually have a crush on his brother. This guy...does he secretly have a death wish? The boy isn't on the market, Dean mentions, but he has to quickly cover it up, saying that he might be smitten with Castiel. They both laugh it off and the blonde exhales silently. It's kinda messed up how he has to hide how much he truly loves Sammy. He wants to shout across the rooftops and scream to the heavens that he's unapologetically in love with his brother. Anyone who has a problem with that can deal with it. 

Dean sighs when he pulls down the hood of the car that he was just working on. It's great to do this again. To do what he really loves. It brings up sweet memories of Bobby teaching him the in's and outs of car maintenance while Sam read from a random book nearby. Always nearby. Never alone. The bitter trip down memory lane comes to a sudden halt when the mechanic thinks about how Bobby attempted to kill his kid. No, he doesn't want to think about it anymore, about him. Dean cleans his brow with the rag over his shoulder; he was sweating quite a bit. Michael walks in, wiping his greasy and blackened hands on his own rag. He's...very handsome actually, Dean muses. He reminds him of a younger version of John, the man who he once looked up to. Not anymore. Michael frowns, clapping him on the shoulder as a sign of friendship.

"Hey, you ok?" He asks.

Dean blinks, shaking out of the weird thoughts in his mind. "No--Yeah! I'm alright. Just wondering if Sammy's ok, ya know. A lot of stuff has happened lately."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Um...we had to, uh," He's honestly having a hard time finding a believable lie. "He's just...having nightmares and...stuff."

Michael smirks sadly. "Yeah, that's gotta be tough. Sorry he has to go through that--"

The man cuts himself off, frantically looking left and right. Dean does the same, trying to find whatever it is that his boss is looking for. Is everything alright with him? He starting to look like a dog chasing a squirrel. The air turns chilly all of a sudden, like how it was back at the house weeks ago after the Ouija Board. Dean hitches his breath, not exactly prepared to potentially combat an Angelic or Demonic being. The strange thing here is that Michael seems as anxious as he his. To be fair, this entire little episode is strange, but that's currently Dean's life right now. It's full of Demons, Angels, Death and The Antichrist, though he's certain that Sam would disapprove of him using that term. It's actually terrible. Soon, Michael speaks, yelling evenly into the quiet air. Confusion eventually sets in over the blonde's handsome features.

"I know that you're here, Demon!" The black haired man calls out. "Come out now or face my wrath!"

In no time, Azazel suddenly pops into existence in front of them both. He smirks because he just likes it. "Well, well. Nice to meet you too. Seems like the last time I was here you were completely oblivious to my presence."

"Don't let yourself be fooled. I feigned ignorance and I  _allowed_ you to speak privately with Dean. Why are you here?"

"It's none of your business." Azazel checks the time on his watch. "Dean, we must be going. Sam's father is back at the house."

Michael's face drains of all color for a split second. "Lucifer has resurfaced? How could I not feel him?"

By this time, Dean's on the point of hitting himself in the head with the wrench that's just out of reach. "Wait a second, guys. I need some answers." He turns to Michael, cautious. "Who...what are you? I know that you're not human and you speak Lucifer's name like you know him personally...how so?"

"Great question." The Demon mutters. "I actually wanna know for myself."

"I'm Michael." The man says simply, as if they're all supposed to know; Azazel does, but he doesn't give it away. "Lucifer is my brother, Dean."

Oh.

So...

Great. Now it's all coming together nicely. So, Michael is  _the Michael_.

"You mean like the...Archangel Michael?" Dean asks.

The Angel nods. "Precisely the same. My brothers--the ones that still remain--have lived here, waiting for the two of you to return. We hoped that Sam would recognize the darkness in his heart and turn against it, but that Demon with you sunk his talons into the both of you first. I knew Samael in Heaven. He was so beautiful and had I gotten the chance to meet Lucifer on the battlefield, I would have cut him down without a second glance. Samael was the best of us, not tied down by certain dilemmas that you humans and some of us Angels have. He chose his own way every time. I had a...close relationship with him."

Dean feels a slight turn in his guts from Michael's statement. Is this jealousy? Azazel soon makes a comment on it. "Wow. Even Angels can fall in love it seems. I guess God really doesn't care about brother on brother action. We don't either, but hey, whatever works for you."

"It was more than that!" Michael yells. His eyes flash a light blue, but diminish as he calms himself. "It was...it was more than that. I admired Samael...and Lucifer snatched him away only because he decided to stay with us instead of joining him. I pleaded with Father to allow me to kill him as he laid locked in The Cage, but he forbid it. After some centuries, me and my remaining brothers fled Heaven with our Father after Lucifer escaped. We traveled all over in search of him, but it was in vain. We integrated ourselves into society, never revealing ourselves even to our fellow Sisters and Brothers. When we found out about Lucifer's plans for Sam, we knew that we had to take the chance. However, he never appeared until now."

"Your other brothers," The man with green eyes says. "They're Angels too right? Castiel, Gabriel and Nick? Well, Nick hardly sounds like an Angel's name."

Michael shakes his head. "It isn't. I'm going to tell you something, Dean, and I want you to be prepared for it. Nick isn't real. In all respects, he  _was_ real. He was a construction that my Father had made. It was in Lucifer's image through and through. Father missed him so much that he made a being to resemble and act like him. I, myself, was disgusted with it. I could never...I could never love it as I loved my own brother. He also imbued the being with free will and tasked him to befriend Samuel. It failed when Matthew Carson threatened him; Nicholas became scared, confused and this forced Father to destroy what he worked so hard on. Then there's Gabriel. He doesn't exactly talk much, but when he does, he will not stop. He hardly speaks to Sam, yet he wants to keep him safe as well."

Azazel frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "And what of the youngest? This Castiel? I've not heard of him in Heaven unless..."

"That's correct. You've never heard of him because there wasn't such a being within Heaven." Michael chuckles, smiling at Dean. "Castiel is the Messiah in new form. So technically, the Second Coming of Christ has happened, but not as you'd think. Castiel is the brightest, purest star in the universe and with Samael, they'll truly bring peace and joy to God's Creation and stop Lucifer from bringing it to the brink of chaos. If we don't leave soon, it'll be too late. Lucifer doesn't care about Sam. He only cares about the abilities that he holds. Only he and Castiel have the power to oppose him. He made him so he could control him, use him. We have to leave now and get the others."

There's no going back after this. Dean nods, and having forgotten about Azazel's presence, grabs Michael by the hand. He shakes it firmly, determined to help save the world from the Devil's awful schemes and to save his brother from the monster's clutches. However, Azazel doesn't seem all that happy. With a subtle flick of his hand, Dean's sent tumbling over to the wall on the far right. He performs the same thing on Michael, smiling maliciously as he does so. Dean ponders on just how he was able to do that. Perhaps it's because he's on the same sort of "power level" as the Archangel. If that's the case then they're both screwed. All he can think about is Sam. He prays (Haha) to God to watch over him, hoping that the son of a bitch (So sorry, God) hasn't lain a hair on his kid. Azazel hears everything despite the prayer being silent and in his mind. The Demon laughs wickedly, hand outstretched towards the mortal. Things are looking bleak right about now.

"I had high hopes for you, Dean Winchester." He snarls. "Lucifer too. You would've made a great Knight Of Hell, but I suppose you never had the stomach for it anyway. No matter, I get to eliminate Lucifer's competition two times over. Sam  _will_ reunite with his father and Armageddon  _will_ begin. I'll spin a story about your death. How you were captured by the Angels and you fought your hardest until it just wasn't enough. Sure, he'll grieve, but he'll turn that grief into hatred towards the holy father."

"You piece of shit!" Dean growls, unable to move.

"You won't get away with this!" Michael shouts. "Our Father will know what you've--"

" _Your_ Father." Azazel sneers. When it comes to the topic of God, he seems pissed. "Not mine. He was never my father." He glares back at Dean. "I can't have you ruin my plans. I could always wipe your entire memory of everything, leaving you in an unknown city to live out your remaining life as someone else. That would be a lesser punishment...but I'm not feeling very charitable. Time to die, Dean Winchester."

Having said that, Azazel doesn't get to deliver the killing blow onto the man. Someone else comes into view and then, a bright light shines, forcing Dean to closes his eyes. It barely does anything. Still having his eyes shut, he hears the Demon screaming loud and then a sizzling sound, like when The Mark was being removed from his arm. Soon, Azazel's telekinetic hold on them is shattered and Dean falls to the floor. He's dazed, feeling extremely disoriented. What was that? He didn't expect an answer, but he got one anyway. He doesn't recognize the voice, buthe from the way the words were said, he's gonna go out on a limb and say that it's one of the surviving Milton Brothers. It's definitely not Castiel because the boy doesn't talk like that. So that only leaves one more left. Looking up, Dean notices another person in the garage, hand glowing in blue energy of some kind. He's...kinda short, but he's smirking; there's nothing left of Azazel, only his clothes. Weird. Like Anna.

"I just saved your life, Chester." Gabriel snorts, putting out the light. "Both of your lives. Thank me later."

Michael stands up, dusting himself off. "Thank you. Dean, this is Archangel Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Dean Winchester. There, a formal introduction."

It's alright to be cautious around the most popular Archangels, right? Dean chuckles nervously, feeling somewhat inadequate. "Nice to finally meet you, Gabriel. You know, for real."

"Yup. Whatever." It appears that his vocabulary is similar to a real mortal teenager's. "I know all about you and stuff. Just get your ass in gear, would ya? We kinda have a world to save soon. And please, call me Gabe."

"Excuse my brother, Dean. He's blended in with the humans so well that he's starting to really think like he's one of them. It's entertaining until it's not."

Dean doesn't really know what to do besides cross his arms. "Right. Okay. This is...wow. Huh...so what now? What do we do?"

"Take my hand." Gabriel says firmly. "We have to notify My Father and Castiel of Lucifer's arrival. You know, I'm kinda excited to see what happens when we're all in the same room together. Aren't you, Deano?"

The man shakes his head negatively while having an anxious grin in place. He's absolutely terrified of having God, The Lightbringer and four of his sons all mashed together. What kind of bullshit is this!? Why can't things be easy, like him just being crazy and imaging all of this? It would be so much better if the Archangels in front of him were none other than delusions, figments of his shattered imagination. Oh, how Dean wishes that he was crazy like how he thought John was long ago. But he's not crazy...and neither was John. His parents were...they were horrible or rather...they made horrible decisions. He regrets being elated about his mother dying after learning that she would've killed Sam. Though, it all could've been an elaborate lie to get them to side with Azazel. He wouldn't put it past him, that snake. There's truly only one way to find out.  Dean's gonna ask God what Mary was thinking about at the time of her death and where she is. As he grabs the Angel's hand, they teleport away and his entire life flashes before his eyes in some weird playback recording.

Memories of him.

Memories of Sam.

Sam.

Sammy...

* * *

"I--I don't know what you mean by that..."

"Samael, the people don't call me The Prince Of Lies for nothing. I invented sin, perfected it, so do you really think that your lies are undetectable? Even from me?"

Sam sits on the sofa, heart in his stomach. This is frightening, very much so. He's being harassed--not really, but kinda--by Lucifer, King of Hell. His father in his father's body. It's very out if the ordinary if you say it out loud or even think it, though here he is, sitting next to him, rubbing his leg soothingly yet non-innocently. Sam's starting to question his true motives. Dad's aren't supposed to touch their sons like this; he's getting flashbacks again about the incident. Being so close to the man who took his virginity very violently can make a person go through events like this. But it wasn't Lucifer that raped him, it was John in his delirium. John had taken away his innocence way earlier than he had wanted, leaving him broken for some time. The man of obviously had a reason for it; he was trying to scrub away the purity that would make the Antichrist so perfect. While Sam understands and sympathizes with John, he's still having a hard time forgiving him.

The teenager moves his leg subtly, getting Lucifer's hand away. "If you know, then why are you asking me?"

"Because I want to hear you say it." The Devil whispers in his ear. What is this? "So, are you going to tell me?"

Honestly, it would most likely be very unwise to withhold information from a certain fallen Archangel, so Sam tells him. "I...I destroyed The Mark Of Cain. I don't know how, but I did and I'm not sorry." At the last part, he looks at his unholy father with a hard gaze. "I'm not sorry at all for what I did."

"I see..." Lucifer stares back, expressionless. It's unnerving. "And why did you destroy The Mark?"

"Because it--it was changing Dean! He was angry almost all of the time and it scared me. The Mark was changing him for the worse and he was like a time bomb ready to explode. I had to get that off of him. I had to have him back."

Lucifer stands, looking around the living room. He picks up a picture of Sam and Dean from two years ago, watching movies. "You know, Sam, that Mark took me a lot of time to make. Originally, it was supposed to corrupt man and force them to do evil upon this pathetic Creation, yet, for all of my efforts, I hadn't found the perfect subject to gift it too. Then, when I saw Dean protect you, I knew he was the one. I quickly reconfigured The Mark so it would be tied to you. There would've been some side effects, but I'm sure it was going to resolve itself. However, it's gone now, and I'm not exactly happy about that."

"I did what I had to do to save Dean." Sam argues, not even daring to leave the couch.

"Yes, I'm well aware of this now. But you see, that Mark took immense power to make. It also takes double the power to erase it completely. It's come to my attention that as you destroyed my most perfect gift, you died, yet here you sit with me, unscathed. Almost like...a miracle."

Sam cowers on the couch, moving over to the corner of it as Lucifer sets the photo down. His shoes making noise as he slowly walks back over to him. His expression now is grim, serious. Deadly serious. He leans forward, cold hand touching his chin, thumb swiping over his bottom lip. This is wrong. Lucifer's being too affectionate towards his child. That's not how it supposed to go. It feels like he's trying to...seduce him...? There's a lot of stories about The Devil doing such deed's in women, but his own children? Not so much. Sam's not evil, not like the being in front of him. Lucifer inches closer until their noses are touching. His breath smells sweet and it's the opposite to how John's used to be, hot and smelling like strong alcohol. If only he could read his mind. Currently, however, when he attempts to, all he can hear are John's agonizing screams of pain, demanding to be released so as to protect Sam. This changes his perspective of the man who attacked him.

"A miracle..." Sam says shakily. "Yes. I suppose it was."

The being with John's face licks his lips. "Who did you call out to when you died, Sam? It wasn't me...so who?"

"I--I didn't. I swear that I...I didn't."

"Hmm. Well, if you didn't, who or what did you see? I had no idea what happened to you until Azazel informed me. Who did you see? Who brought you back?"

"I'm..." Sam debates on revealing just who he thinks revived him. He can tell that Lucifer's having a hard time reading his mind. Perhaps he can't. He uses this to his advantage. "There were many people there, all coveted in fine clothes with bright lights around them. They smiled at me and that was it."

That obviously isn't the desired answer as Lucifer grips his face fiercely. He's sneering something horrible, nostrils flaring like a mad bull. "Stop lying to me! I can't read you, yet I know that you're lying!"

"What can I say?" Sam responds quietly. He stares into his father's cold eyes. "I learned from the best."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm my father's son..."

It's downhill from there. Lucifer's eyes bulge up to hilarious sizes as he swings his arm out to hit Sam. It connects, and he's sent falling back down to the floor. He expected this. He honestly did. There was no way that the Morningstar himself was capable of loving anyone else but himself. This isn't love, it's just nothing. Not even hate. Lucifer continously stalks him slowly as the boy attempts to crawl around the house to get away. Once he reaches the front door to turn the knob, he finds that it won't budge. His father's doing, no doubt. He decides to quickly counter it, forcing the lock to open. It works, but just as he starts to run out the door, he's pulled back in by the fallen Angel's power. The door slams itself shut and he's being hurled over the couch onto the rug in front of it. Lucifer appears soon on top of him, eyes slightly wild. He grabs Sam by the hair, panting.

"I came here to collect you, but now I see that you don't even want to be on my side." The boy hears John yelling for Sam to get away, but neither of them can do so. "You've defied me, destroyed an ancient mark that took centuries to create. I'll make you learn. I'll control you so you never make a mistake like that again. I really do love you, Samael. You were always my favorite.."

Before he can even start to question his father on the matter, the Devil gets thrown off of him by an unseen force. Sam gets up, looking around. Near the entrance is his brother, Dean, but he's not the only one there. He sees Castiel there, not exactly smiling, but not frowning either. Next to him his Gabriel, smirking. Behind him is Michael who grins at him, cheeks slightly red. Sam's does the same for some reason, though he's certain that he doesn't know why. The most peculiar thing is that there's another man behind them that Sam's never seen. His legs move on their own to the man, like he's hypnotized; the others move out of the way. This guy is a little short, but he's very familiar. Something about him is...strange. He has short, curly brown hair with a matching beared. His eyes are bright and his smile is even brighter. When Sam touches his hand, he feels it the massive energy coming from him.

The Old Man In The Clouds.

"It's you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It can't be...can it...? 
> 
> (Stay tuned all the way in! ;D)


	18. Just A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam meets the one who brought Creation into existence. 
> 
> A divine reunion takes place and the Winchester Brothers finally find peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The last chapter! It's so awesome!!!

Memories rush through his mind at breakneck speeds. This man--this smiling man in front of him--is none other than the Creator himself. The Bearded Old Man In The Clouds. God. Chuck. He has many names, just as Lucifer, but there's no denying who and what this being is. He squeezes Sam's hand reassuringly, already knowing what's going through his head. Of course he does. He's God! But then does that mean...he knows about him and Dean? Oh crap. Speaking of Dean, his brother grabs him for an amazing hug, nearly breaking him apart. Gabriel pats his shoulder as only a friend would while Castiel smiles warmly at him. However, when he glances at Michael, all he can feel is...attraction. It wasn't like this before, but perhaps it was because he didn't discover his true heritage yet.

He goes over to Michael, oddly noting that he resembles John when he was younger. Sam doesn't realize it, but his hand moves on it's own until it touches the man's (No, something else) cheek. Suddenly, he's granted visions of the past. The past? It doesn't feel like that at all. It's different. Almost as if the time and place didn't exist yet did at the very same time. He sees himself--No, not himself. Samael. He sees Samael interacting with Michael, smiling bright as the Archangel touched him. Sam understands then that his predecessor and Michael shared a special relationship, much like how he and Dean share one. If given enough time, Sam's certain that Samael and Michael's relationship would've grown into something greater. The energy in the room is overwhelming along with the need to embrace the dark haired Angel grinning down on him.

"This is..." Sam speaks quietly. He keeps his hand on Michael's face as he addresses the others. "I know everything. I remember...but I still don't understand. What happened?"

Chuck steps forward, looking upon Lucifer's unconscious form. He kneels down, hand over his heart. He closes his eyes and a light shines from his palm, bright and white. Everyone covers their eyes, but it's over as quickly as it began. John/Lucifer screams on agony as something happens. Sam knows. Chuck's separating Lucifer from their father. Dean grabs him, putting himself in front of the boy in defense. Michael and Castiel follow suit. Gabriel does also. Soon, Sam and Dean witness a strange and miraculous sight. Lucifer zaps out of John's body and gasps for air on the floor, stark naked. Chuck quickly stands, facial expression neutral. Sam realizes soon enough why Lucifer's and Nick's hands were so cold. They were one and the same. Sort of. Chuck had made Nick with the likeness of his son. Why? To figure out why he turned against him? That has to be the reason as it is the only logical one. None of this paranormal nonsense is logical, but it's been happening for a while now.

The bearded deity snaps his fingers once and the fallen Angel becomes fully clothed in a blink of an eye. He stops gasping and looks around the room, blue eyes wildly searching for Sam. He spots his target and glares, but when he looks more, he becomes frightened, maybe even surprised. Lucifer stands to his full height, hand extended toward Chuck. Sam and Dean expect something to happen, but nothing comes. The confused Angel tries again only to grunt in frustration. Even if Chuck didn't explain what the issue was, the boy still understands everything. It's not exactly rocket science. Far from it. In fact, there's zero science involved. Just...this. Michael grabs his hand, blushing madly when Sam looks at him. What is this strange feeling? He can't be attracted to this Angel...can he? It's not him, it's Samael's grace that recognizes him. Divine bullshit is at work right now and it's extremely confusing to him. Those two haven't seen each other in many long years, maybe even millenia. Great. Another father-son reunion in their house. Is this place a beacon for supernatural activity or something? Again, that's a stupid question considering who and what Sam actually is.

"You can do no harm here, Lucifer." Chuck starts, voice leveled. "I forbid it in my name."

The Archangel scoffs. "In  _your name_? You banish and trap me in a cell for many years and strip me of my abilities in  _your name_!? You have nerve. Nerve the likes I've never seen before. How dare you!?"

"Lucifer, calm yourself."

"Or what? You'll bring your wrath down upon me? I've already been subjected to it." He looks to his brothers, scowling. "And you've brought the rabble with you I see. The ones who would blindly follow you with empty promises. How are you, Gabriel? Michael? Older brothers? How do you fair on this most unpleasant day?"

"Hey, bro." Gabriel huffs. "Good to see you again."

Michael continues to hold Sam's hand. "I fair well, Abomination. Better than you, I suppose."

"I see." He hums, looking down at his brother's hand seeing that it's joined with Sam's. "Heh. You haven't changed at all, Brother. I should've suspected that, no matter where Samael's grace ended up, you'd find it. You were always so obsessed with him, smiling happily every time he was near. It was sickening. I was revolted."

"Or perhaps you were just jealous because he never gave you the time of day. I saw the way you looked at him, Lucifer. Like he was a prize just waiting to be won. He never would've wanted you, you selfish child."

"Enough of this!" Chuck shouts. Thunder sounds outside and it has Dean grab at Sam's other hand. "Please, enough arguing. This isn't what I want." He glances at Lucifer with sad eyes. "This was never what I wanted."

Sam subtly removes his hand from Michael's grasp, face still beet red. This is all so troubling to see and hear. He knows for a fact that Dean is feeling the same way about this exchange. Any moment now, one of them could attack, be it Michael, Lucifer or even Chuck. These beings aren't fucking around. Chuck looks about ready to embrace the son that he banished while Lucifer looks as if he's ready to conquer the world. Now Michael...well, let's just say it's a combination of wanting to kill his brother and kissing Sam. He's uncomfortable with that, but at the same exact time, he's drawn to him in a way that's almost unreal. He knows that it's not him, but the power inside of him that wants to reach out. The Son of Lucifer brushes it off for a moment, eyes locked on his still unconscious father. Azazel said that Lucifer had taken a liking to plays and such and that he would most likely make a dramatic appearance. He wasn't lying. Where is he anyways? Wouldn't he want to be with his master again?

"Then what  _did_ you want,  _Father_?" Lucifer snarls. "You...you left me down there, alone. Alone and with little influence over my new domain! You exiled me from my home because I chose you over everything else!"

Chuck sighs. "I exiled you because you murdered your brothers and sisters in a rage. They were my children."

"I was your child! I was your child and you betrayed me!"

"Would you just shut up already?" Dean interjects. Sam and the others look at him, nervous. "You're acting like the stupid, spoiled little brat that society hates. Stop it with the tantrums. Man up and take some goddamn responsibility for yourself! Sorry, God..."

"Chuck." The man corrects. "And it's not a problem. Contrary to popular belief, you're not actually taking my name in vain."

"Oh, good to know."

"You speak of things that are beyond your comprehension, Dean Winchester." The Devil growls under his breath. "I was his child, his light. His Morningstar! I rebelled because I had no other choice." He glares towards Chuck once again. "You forced my hand! I didn't...I didn't want them to die, only to join me in letting the mortals know their rightful place."

"And you forced my hand, Lucifer. I loved you so much...but what you did couldn't be taken back. You killed my confidante, your mentor. You killed Samael in cold blood and took from him the very essence of his life. You've spent years--decades, centuries--plotting against me, tempting men and women to do evil acts upon themselves and others. I failed you. As your father, I failed to recognize your behavior."

"Do not apologize, Father." Michael snarks. "He deserved everything that befell upon him. He killed Samael."

Lucifer chuckles. It's a dark chuckle. "Was that all you ever cared about? Samael and only Samael? What a shame. And now Sam. You can't stop looking at my beloved son, can you? You've been staring at him since you've arrived, admiring his beauty. He resembles him, doesn't he."

"Sh--Shut up, Beast..."

"You would've attempted to romance him had Dean not gotten to him first I bet."

And there it is.

The big ass elephant in the room. Sam puts his head down, embarrassed. Embarrassed about what you ask? Well, the fact that his and Dean's relationship status was just broadcasted around the living room just now. However, Dean's grip on him doesn't falter; he hugs him close to his chest, unashamed of the unnatural and unholy relationship between them. He defiantly stares at everyone excluding Sam, kissing his forehead once. His heart is beating fast, nearly vibrating like a rabbit's. There's not much for the boy to do other than voice his own opinion on everything. He detaches himself from his brother, going to stand in between Chuck and Lucifer. He's scared; his father and his grandfather in the same room, almost killing each other. There's also the fucked up family tree to worry about, but that can wait.

"I've been quiet this entire time," He says, placing both hands on either one's chest. "But it's time for me to break my silence. I'm not Samael. I have his grace--as well as Lucifer's--running through my veins, but I'm not him and I never will be. I'm Samuel Winchester, that's the name I was born with. Secondly, I'm not the Antichrist and I will  _not_ participate in this pointless crusade to subjugate humanity with you. I won't help you bring about the apocalypse, and I won't help you bring about everlasting peace. I want normalcy, a roof over my head and my brother by my side. Lastly, and most importantly, Dean and I...we...we're together, as you all might know, and I have no intention on--"

"Excuse me," Chuck clears his throat. "But may I interject for a brief moment?" When Sam begrudgingly nods, he continues. "The reason why the two of you are so close is because of something that Castiel inadvertently caused. Soulmates. After he died the first time on that cross, he unknowingly unleashed a power strong enough to move the entire universe. I did not choose this for you, your souls did. It's random. And don't think for one second that I don't approve of your relationship with each other. You cannot help who you fall in love with. My sons can attest to this."

Sam nods, not sure how to thank the Lord before him. "Right...thanks, I guess."

"The cross?" Lucifer whispers, looking directly at Castiel. The teen seems a bit nervous. "Who are you? I've never seen your face in Heaven before. This can't be...You can't be..."

"I'm The Son of God, Brother." Castiel smiles politely. "We've met before, in the desert when you tried to tempt me into ending my life and proving myself as the Messiah. You knew me as a different name then."

The entire room goes deathly silent as everyone else but Sam--and presumably Dean--processes the information. He had a suspension that his best friend was Jesus, yet he's still a little surprised to be honest. Sam's shock meter has begun rising with each passing revelation. There's so much more that he doesn't even know about God and Lucifer and the Angels. That's not entirely true though. It's all hidden in his memory, his Grace. The Grace of his father and the Grace of his predecessor. Samael was a divine Archangel; The Archangel Of Death and Decision. His final thoughts were of Michael--which,  _again_ , is surprising--and if he perished on the battlefield fighting against Lucifer. He held him in high regard. It's true for the both of the Angels, but the former more so than the latter. Sam finds that Michael and his ancestor were beginning to fall in love with each other. It's actually not all that strange now that he thinks about it. Memories of Michael remind him of how Dean is now. Is this a coincidence, or chance? In this abnormal life he lives, he'd say that nothing happens by chance. That everything is fated to happen. Just like the pairing of his soul with Dean's despite what Chuck, our Lord, our God, says about it.

"Ah, yes." The blonde Devil grins, snickering. "I remember you. But if I do recall correctly, I'd say that it was more than that one instance. I believe the last time we met, I urged you to run from your ultimate fate: the cross. I took pity on you. What kind of father would sacrifice their own son? I thought of that is...unforgivable. I wouldn't have done that to my own child." Lucifer gazes into his son's eyes. "Never to you, Sam. I'd never forsake you. I love--"

"Don't." He groans, closing his eyes. "Don't say that because you've hidden yourself from me and lied for Eighteen years. That's not love. I accept this though and...I don't hate you for it. I can't...I...I can't hate you...even knowing who you truly are, I can't seem to fucking hate you." Sam says something then, as he looks upon John laying on the floor. He soon get on the ground, hand on his cheek. "Or him. He's the source of my nightmares, but now...I can't hate him. Not while I have this power inside of me. I can finally do this..."

Dean rushes down to his brother on the floor as the ground outside begins to shake. Chuck and Lucifer back away. "Sammy, what are doing."

"Thank you, Dean."

"For--for what? For what?"

"For bringing us back here...For bringing us back home. You were right. About healing. We can finally heal..."

That's all he says as everything starts coming apart. Literally. The family from Heaven back away as everything begins to violently quake around them. John thrashes in his unconscious state, head turning left to right. The pictures on the walls rattle, only to fall down and brake. Wood creaks inside loudly, startling Castiel. Sam's eyes widen as he rocks back and forth, hand still on John's cheek. The boy's hazel eyes flicker from black, to yellow, to light blue in fast, vicious spurts. That's when the first bang is heard. Then the next. And the nest one after that. It knocks everyone off of their feet and to the floor below. Dean, not exactly sure on what's going on, peers out the window for a moment. He gasps quietly, looking at the horror before him. Slowly, but surely, Sam's causing the foundation of the house to crack, making the building rise up into the air from nothing. It starts to spin as various objects in their home float around. Whatever Sam is doing, it's causing everything to react towards him. Dean's thrown back near the television stand when he tries to touch his kid. He rolls out of the way in time right as the TV comes down near his head.

"John Winchester," Sam starts to say. His voice is authoritative and robotic. "You've committed terrible sins in the name of our God. Your soul is tainted and requires judgment. I sentence you to...to..."

It seems that he can't finish the words under the heavenly influence of Samael's grace. Soon, the house manages to get several stories up into the sky, twirling about madly as if caught in a tornado. Sam comes back to himself, horrified just as Dean and the others. He looks down when he feels a hand on his own cheek. It's John. He's awake and smiling weakly. The boy starts to bawl, which in turn ends up becoming a wail of sadness mixed with relief. No one dares to come near as this takes place; Lucifer struggles to keep himself up and gets help from the brother that everyone thought he despised: Michael. The house stops turning in a flash as Sam begins to say the next three words. Three words that Dean had never thought he'd hear come from his younger brother's mouth.

"I..." Sam sobs. "Forgive you..."

Suddenly, gravity takes over everything as Sam's hold on the house breaks, sending it falling back to Earth. Lucifer and Michael collapse once again, crawling over to their father and brothers. Dean grasps the arm if the couch like it's his lifeline, shouting for Sam to grab his hand. The boy hears it, but he continues to glance lovingly at the man who caused him so much pain. Miracles can happen apparently. Dean lets go of the couch, desperately trying to get to his boy. The impact is coming soon, he can feel it like it's a part of him. Just as he prays that someone keeps them safe, something happens. He blinks and he's standing on the curb with the others, Sam and John included. Soon, and all too horribly, the house collides with the ground, rocking the entire neighborhood and leaving the site in utter disarray. Dean looks over, seeing Lucifer dusting himself off as Michael checks him over for injuries. The younger Archangel dismisses him, voicing his opinion that he's being rather annoying. Family is family it seems, no matter what. Blood--or Grace--is thicker than water itself.

* * *

**The Next Day...**

Dean puts the last of their bags in the trunk of the Impala. It's some of the stuff he and Sam managed to salvage from the wreckage that used to be their home. He shuts the trunk, kissing Sam on the top of his head as he does so. They're at the edge of town; the goodbye sign is a few meters in the distance. They are accompanied by Chuck and his Archangel sons. Sam crosses his arms as Lucifer looks at him, lips set in a firm line. He's unhappy that his plans of total world domination have been ruined by an Eighteen Year Old, and not just any teenager. His own son. Michael also seems unhappy, though it's more of a saddened look than anything else. Gabriel rubs small circles on Castiel's back. Sam moves forward, going to stand in front of them; they meet him halfway. He pulls Dean's hoodie over his shoulders, smiling at his friends.

Sam pushes hair away from his eyes. "So, I guess this is it, huh?"

"It doesn't have to be this way, Sam." Castiel touches his hand. "Come with us. There's room--"

"I can't. I'm done with this, Cas. I don't...I don't want this anymore. I want a normal life with Dean...but thanks anyway. I'm going my own way from now on. I'll just...go wherever the wind takes me."

"Spoken just like Samael." Gabriel grins. "Look, I know that you and I didn't talk much before, but I was always in your corner. Just know that. We're gonna be just fine. Don't worry. We're Angels."

They hug the boy once and fall back to where the others are stood. Michael steps forward next after beaming brightly at the reincarnation of The Archangel Of Death. Sam looks back briefly at Dean who nods and checks the bags over again. He wants to say goodbye to someone who he didn't know he loved. Correction: who he didn't know Samael loved. The teen also meets him halfway, staring up into his steely grey eyes. In those eyes, he almost becomes lost, wading through them in an attempt to get lost forever. Everything about him screams that he and Dean are one in the same. It's astonishing. He wonders if that was intentional or not on Chuck's part. He'll have to ask him soon. When Michael steps into his space, it's almost as if time stops. A day ago, he wouldn't have been able to understand this. Now, however, it all makes sense. Almost everything. Kinda. A little bit. Not really. There's somethings that kinda don't make sense.

"I really wish you'd stay with us." Michael whispers lovingly, gently touching Sam's neck. "It...I...I would miss you. You're Samael reborn, even if you say otherwise. Everything he was is inside of you."

"I guess that's true." Sam chuckles softly.

"It is." The black haired Angel grins. It softens and dissipates completely, replaced by something else. "Sam? Can I kiss you...?"

"Michael..."

"Please? I just have to see...I have to know."

This is incredibly awkward. Like, really,  _really_ , awkward. Michael is technically his brother/uncle. Like he thought before, his family tree is a jumbled up mess...but Sam wants to know too. Wants to see if this is something that he'll remember. If this is something that he can hold onto. If not for himself, then for Samael, the one who never got to stay with his only love. So, taking matters into his own hands, Sam stands on the tips of his toes--Michael's pretty tall--and presses their lips together. His arms wrap themselves around the Angel's neck as he opens his mouth more; Michael's hands find their way to Sam's hair, tangling in the brown strands. All too soon it's over with the two of them gasping for air and blushing. He clears his throat and fixes his hair, smiling to himself when Michael tucks a strand behind his ear. It's a gesture that Sam recognizes him doing to Samael. He also realizes that Dean does the same thing.

"I really liked that..." Michael admits. His smile never fades. "And I really wish you'd stay even more now...but I know you can't do that. You can't leave Dean. He loves you just as much as I do, maybe even more. Maybe in the next life, we'll see each other."

Sam nods. "Maybe in the next life."

Michael backs away slowly, never taking his eyes off of him. If only things were different. Sam would be lying to himself if he said that the kiss didn't give him chills up his spine and shocks to his brain. Maybe it's because it was supernatural in nature. It was different from Dean's kisses...but there was an instance in which he actually thought he was kissing Dean! It sounds crazy, but that's how it felt for him. Soon after Michael's farewell, he harshly nudges Lucifer who bitterly grumbles something under his breath before coming foward. He's got his hands in his pockets and he really does seem like the spoiled little brat that Dean called him. He looks a bit pissy, but that's very understandable considering the circumstances. You know, with him losing and all. The fallen Angel signals for Dean to approach as well, flipping him off when he rolls his eyes. This is the side that Sam's never seen. Weird.

"Well, you beat me." Lucifer mumbles. "Must feel really good about yourselves. Especially you, Dean."

The blonde Winchester puts his arm around Sam's shoulder. "Anything for this kid right here. And yeah, I'm feeling pretty good. It's not every day that you get to win against the actual Devil."

"You won because I let you win."

"Whatever you say."

Satan looks towards the hazel eyed boy. "You really grew up. I expected more from you. You're letting your gifts go to waste and for what? To become  _'normal'_? I hate to admit it, but...at least you've found your way. While it may not be the life I wanted for you, it's still yours. I'm proud of you."

Because he really wants to know, Sam asks. "Really?"

"Fuck no." Lucifer deadpans. "I'm pissed off and I'll never forgive you for what you've done...but you're still my son and I love you. Never doubt that."

The brunette teenager shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. I guess we'll see each other somewhere down the road then, huh?"

"I wouldn't put that thought to rest if I were you. Besides, there are many secrets that I still cling to."

Just as he turns to leave, Sam calls out to him again. "Wait! You said that I was your favorite. What does that mean? And was our mother really going to kill me? What does it all mean...?"

Lucifer grins; it's wolfish, devious. That's all he does as he disappears from sight, leaving everyone baffled, including Chuck. His hold on him wasn't as concrete as he had originally thought. The bearded man walks up to the brothers, hands behind his back firmly. He looks about ready to start shouting his word across the rooftops and the cities. Maybe there will be a day in which he'll do that, in which he'll remake the earth all over again and take the people to paradise. It could possibly be the day that Sam will be called upon to decide their fate. He's technically Death after all. Chuck grabs the brothers for a huge hug, not stopping until Dean awkwardly clears his throat. When he pulls back, they both notice that God is... _crying_? No, that can't be right. He's fucking  _God_ and he shouldn't cry! Then again, if he really saw the state of the world, he'd probably cry.

"It's good to see you choosing your own path, Sam. I always admired that in Samael. He'd mock me, playfully of course, about my unwavering faithfulness in him. He was my bright star. My Poison, My Venom. If you ever need us--any one of us--just pray. We'll be there."

Dean frowns. "What happened to Lucifer? He's just...gone."

"Yes...Lucifer." Chuck smiles. "He was always the rebellious one. I honestly should have seen the rebellion coming in hindsight. His power has gotten stronger than I had thought. Being in Hell and around Creation must've made him powerful. I can't find him now, or any time in the forseeable future. He doesn't want to be found. I don't blame him. I really am sorry. I never really got to apologize the way I wanted to. Well, no matter. He'll turn up eventually. Take care Sam and Dean. I'll keep tabs in you two."

When he goes to leave again, Sam starts to speak, smirking. "You knew, didn't you?"

Chuck raises an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"That all of this would take place. And...you made Dean with the personality of Michael too. Didn't you?"

"You were always a clever one, Sam." God compliments him. "In the past and in the present."

With that he takes his remaining children and departs for places unknown to the mortals. Dean turns to leave, right along with Sam, but they turn around when the crunching of rocks is heard behind them. It's John, dressed in clothing that he left behind. Chuck must've sent him here for a final goodbye. The dark green flannel shirt blows in the short wind behind him, showing off the black long-sleeved shirt he has on underneath it. His jeans are faded blue and the black boots are slightly worn. He's got his hands shoved in his pockets, not unlike how Michael had his a few minutes ago. Dean's expression is unreadable, as are his thoughts, but not John's. Sam's sees inside if his soul, inside if his mind. There's a once broken man in front of them, now redeemed by divine intervention. He wants nothing more than to grab his youngest child for a hug and to do the same for the oldest. He acknowledges his faults and the unforgivable acts that he performed on his son. John isn't broken anymore; his fragile psyche has been torn apart and repaired piece by piece. Defensively, Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder again.

"I'm...I can't..." John tries so hard to find the words, but Sam already knows his benevolent intent. "Words can't describe how awful I feel. I made a mistake years ago that I can't take back. I just...I'll never forgive myself for what I've done to you, Sammy. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry..."

Sam's attempt at holding it together fails as he falls into his biological father's arms. "It's okay...it's okay. I forgive you. Don't cry. Everything's alright. You'll be okay. I'll be okay."

Dean watches on, clearly fighting the urge to go out and do the same to John. The man looks over at him, past Sam's shoulder and cries even harder. This causes a chain reaction in the blonde's heart. He goes for a group hug, hugging both his boy and his father. In his heart, there is hatred for this man...and pity, but never did he ever think that he'd love him again. There's something similar, more like the acknowledgement of a mutual respect for one another, but love is still quite a ways to go. He assumes that he knows of his and Sam's relationship with one another. He can try to dispute it all he wants, God approved of their little union, so it's all good. Soon, Dean breaks apart, followed by Sam. John quietly tells them to take care as he backs away from the road. Dean goes around the car to hop in the driver's seat, waiting for Sam to climb in too. The boy nods one last time at his father, wiping away a stray tear from his cheek.

He too gets into the Impala, shutting the door as he does. After putting his seatbelt on--and commanding his brother to do the same--Dean starts up the car, quickly turning in the radio. A classic from their childhood starts to full the air around them, forcing the pair to dance along and even sing to the music. Dean fixes the rear view mirror just as he puts his foot on the peddle. They drive past the goodbye sign right when he looks over at Sam, smiling when he does the same. He takes his right hand off the steering wheel to put it in Sam's, fitting their fingers tightly together. They'll start over in a new town, doing new and exciting things. Go on adventures, as dumb as that sounds. Helping people with Sam's gifts maybe? That's entirely up to him...but Dean knows for a fact that he'll wanna finish high school and go to college. He's in charge of his own destiny from now on. The song continues on down the road.

_Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more..._

* * *

**Twelve Years Later...**

It's not as demanding as he though it'd be after five years, but Sam's honestly not complaining. Not at all. He's got a big case to settle tomorrow. A man who might have been falsely accused of rape. It brings back harsh memories of his darkened past. He brushes it off in favor of yawning. It's one o'clock in the morning and he hasn't even had a nap all day. He has to prove this man's innocence; he's learned to not use his powers most days, but in cases like this, he's got to. The man, Cole, didn't do what he's being accused of. Sam saw into his soul for himself, not finding a single strand of evil in him. The sex was consensual, that much he knows. The woman lied to her father after he caught them in her bedroom. All Sam has to do is prove that she did. Being the Son Of Satan/reincarnated Archangel Of Death has its advantages, though, as stated before, he chooses to refrain from using them, instead, relying on his own ingenuity.

Sam absently scratches at the stubble on his jaw. His hair has grown out quite a bit too, but the most awesome thing is that he's now taller than Dean by a foot. Amazing! He's often times called "Sasquatch" or "Big Ole Moose" by him and while it's entertaining, it's also annoying. Especially while he's busy with work. Dean hates being ignored. He's like a small child sometimes. That's all fine and dandy. Sam stretches before he pinches the bridge of his nose. Sighing heavily, he looks towards the stairs when he hears someone coming down. Of course, it's Dean, dressed only in grey pajama bottoms. His hair's a goddamn mess, and his eyes are nearly drooping to the floor. He pads over to the couch where Sam's working and sits, head in his lap. It's a little adorable if the floppy haired giant has anything to say about it. He huffs, going back to the case in front of him as Dean starts tugging at the paper in his hand.

"Dean..." Sam warns. "You better let go of my paperwork...or else."

The older brother grins under him, continuing to be a nuisance. "Or else what? You gonna pass judgement on me again?"

"I'll punish you."

"Then I'm gonna keep pissing you off then." Dean smirks as he takes Sam's thumb and nips at it. "I kinda wanna be judged again."

This isn't as embarrassing as it was twelve years ago when they were practically teenagers. Well, Sam was the teenager. Dean was barely out of his teens. They've become even more comfortable with their relationship ever since they found out that God has given them his blessing. They still don't broadcast it for the entire human population to know about. It'd be trivial to explain that Jesus Christ had caused soulmates to be a thing after dying on that cross. Everyone would try to kill them for heresy. That's sad, bit teue. Sam supposes that, since he's not dead already, other Demons and Angels trying to kill him won't try to. Maybe Chuck got to them or something. Strange. He hasn't seen or talked to any one of them since leaving Lawrence for the final time, not including John of course. He visits for the holidays, though it's almost always awkward between him and Dean. But it's all okay.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Oh, I bet you do. Too bad, though. Trial starts tomorrow and I need e to go over everything and I need evidence."

"What's the case on?"

"A guy who's being accused of rape. It's not true though. The girl's lying on him because Daddy Dearest caught the both of them in the act. If I can prove that she made it up, he'll go free and she'll go to jail."

"There's more to this." The blonde thinks. "Is she or her family wealthy?"

"Yeah, actually." The brunette laughs. "You been looking in the files?"

"No, not at all. I just feel as though if she was rich and the kid wasn't, that'd be the only reason she'd tell her father that it was rape. Be careful. When they're rich, they can afford everything, even the judge's silence and verdict."

"I'm already prepared for this just in case. Remember who you're talking to." Sam informs as he makes his eyes take on a bluish hue.

Suddenly, there's a whoosh sound and it has Sam and Dean look towards the dining room. They both stand, staring wide eyed at the man in their house. It's Castiel. He looks older, but that usually happens when you age, so yeah. He's got his own stubble going on and whatnot; his dark hair is shorter, but not quite combed. His outfit is...intriguing. Like he's dressed to go to work or something. To top it off, he's got on a large, tan trenchcoat. It actually looks damn good on him for what it's worth. But why is he here? It's been a decade since they've last seen each other. It only has Sam wondering how Michael might look now. Still the same most likely.  He wasn't human, so he doesn't age. Castiel, in all respects, is a human. A human with a special past. He looks to his old friend, smiling fondly, but cautious. Something's up. He wouldn't pop back into their lives unless Hell comes to earth. Literally. God, Sam doesn't want to think about that.

"Cas," Sam swallows his saliva. "It's been years...you look good."

Castiel nods. "Thank you. The both of you look well yourselves, but I'm not here to talk about our looks. Something strange is happening in a few states just east of here."

"Like what?" The brothers say in unison.

"Deaths. Strange deaths, unexplainable deaths. Suicides. But I suspect that they aren't suicides. Someone's compelling these people to die...much like--"

"How it was with Jessica and Crowley." Sam finishes. "Is there...is there anything else? Like a lone person at every scene?"

"Yes. A boy. Blonde, withdrawn. There's more, Sam. He has power, similar to yours. With Lucifer gone, I came to you. I don't know what to make of this..."

But Sam does.

It's obvious.

It would take an idiot not to realize it.

Lucifer's up to his old tricks again.

Another Son Of Satan.

 _You were always my **favorite**._..

* * *

He can't stop the voices anymore. They keep taunting him, making him see and do things that he knows is wrong. Adam sits quietly in the booth at the diner two states away from his home. He killed his parents tonight,told them to tear each other apart. And they did, right in front of him. So much blood. He's never seen so much of it in his life. He had to leave. There was no other option. Not with the voices guiding him away, telling him where to go. Kansas? Why Kansas? And who's Samael? This doesn't make any sense. Everything's becoming worse and worse by the second. Adam feels his humanity slipping away with every atrocious act he commits. He can't help it now. He loves doing it, but he knows that it's wrong. With this power, he can do anything. All he has to do is find the voices. Go to Kansas and find a man. John Winchester, the voices keep saying.

Soon, a young waitress comes up to him, pen and paper ready. "Hi, sweetie. You ready to order yet?"

"Ye--No." Adam stutters. "No, not quite."

"You sure? You look hungry. First meal is on me--"

"I SAID I'M NOT HUNGRY, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He growls at her under his breath. The woman recoils, visibility shaken, but just as she's about to leave, he grabs her forearm. "Take the pen in your hand...and take both of your eyes out..."

Without hesitation, the waitress did as she was commanded to, and gouged her brown eyes out...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! Keep on the lookout for more! Here's the soundtrack. (Comprised of the chapter titles.) 
> 
> I Ran- Hidden Citizens 
> 
> Breathing- Ocean Avenue 
> 
> Keep in Mind, Transmogrification Is A New Technology- Mayday Parade 
> 
> Winter Bird- Aurora 
> 
> Share The Sunshine Young Blood- Emorosa 
> 
> Shatter Me- Lindsey Stirling 
> 
> My Blood- Ellie Goulding 
> 
> Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time- Panic! At The Disco 
> 
> Paint It, Black- Ciara (From The Last Witch Hunter)
> 
> Water- Breaking Benjamin 
> 
> Kill The Sound- Celldweller 
> 
> Sleepwalker- The Anix 
> 
> Your Guardian Angel- Red Jumpsuit Apparatus 
> 
> Weapon- Bastille 
> 
> Beast- Nico Vega 
> 
> End Of An Empire- Celldweller 
> 
> Just A Man- The Classic Crime
> 
> (And, obviously, Carry On My Wayward Son- Kansas)


End file.
